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Patsy Carroll 

In 

Old New England 


By 

Grace Gordon 

Illustrated by 
Thelma Gooch 







New York 

Cupples Leon Company 




PATSY CARROLL SERIES 


By grace GORDON 
Cloth. Price per Volume^ $1.50 Net. 


PATSY CARROLL AT WILDERNESS 
LODGE 

PATSY CARROLL UNDER SOUTHERN 
SKIES 

PATSY CARROLL IN THE GOLDEN 
WEST 

PATSY CARROLL IN OLD NEW 
ENGLAND 


CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, New York 


Copyright, 1921, by ' 
CuppLEs & Leon Company 

Patsy Carroll in Old New England 


AUG -6 Vj2[ 

§)CI.A617865 


2-/U)' ‘I Cl 





CONTENTS 

0 

CHAPTER PAGE 

I. The Unavoidable Thriller 1 

II. Wayfarers True to Life 12 

III. Introducing Beth and Torry 21 

IV. A Fliver and Its Ways 35 

V. Not as per Schedule 49 

VI. Missing: One Little Aunt IVIartha. . 61 

VII. The Dominant Patsy 73 

VIII. Polly of the Pink Pond Lilies 84 

IX. Historic New England 99 

X. A Flash-Back 114 

XI. Patsy and the Hawk 125 

XII. Glorious Plymouth Kock 137 

XIII. Crossed Wires 149 

XIV. Pilgrims and Wayfarers 160 

XV. Provincetown En Fete 172 

XVI. Beth Brandon ^s Eescue 185 

XVII. Confirmed Suspicion 196 

Y 


vi 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER PAGE 

XVIII. The Incomparable Feast 208 

XIX. WiLDACRES THE MYSTERIOUS 217 

XX. Tricks of a Guilty’^ Conscience. . . 227 

XXI. Sylvan Solitude 240 

XXII. A Full Day of It 251 

XXIII. The Alarm 261 

XXIV. A Surprising Discovery 271 

XXV. The Deepening Mystery 282 

XXVI. When the Company Came 292 

XXVII. An Electrified Ghost 302 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

0 

PAGE 

under the clock/’ Roily explained 

(see page 303) Frontispiece ^ 

At her side ... sat the faithful Torry 114 ^ 

She waved a hand grandly out toward the old bay 168^ 
Girls!” she cried. ^^Come here, quick!” 279 ^ 




S*;V /.■,^iV -' '-v ■> 













INTRODUCTION 


The Patsy Carroll Series recounts the adven- 
tures of the Wayfarers through North, East, 
South and West. In volume one, Patsy Carroll 
at Wilderness Lodge, the four girls, with ‘'Aunt 
Martha,” journey to the Adirondacks, where, in 
the mountain wilds^ they spend an ideal vacation, 
while, at the same time, they solve the mystery of 
the lost will. Their actual battle against enemies 
and against obstacles gives the tale action replete 
with girls’ peculiar humor. 

Patsy Carroll Under Southern Skies is the 
story of the Wayfarers’ experience on a southern 
coast, where they discover a “sprite child” and 
reclaim her to her place among girls. 

A live story of the wonderful “movie world” 
is recounted in Patsy Carroll in the Golden 
West. Scenes of interest along the Apache Trail 
are described, and the “setting” of a great pic- 
ture, in which the girls find a place, gives a mod- 
ern tale of exciting details. 

The present volume takes Patsy into the his- 
toric land of the Pilgrim Fathers, during the 
celebration of the Tercentenary. 










Patsy Carroll 

In Old New England 


CHAPTER I 

THE UNAVOIDABLE THRILLER 

“ A GENUINE, homemade jaunt, Aunt 
Martha, correct as to period and finish, 
-i- Won’t you love it? Apple pies, dough- 
nuts, New England clam-bakes, and even the 
dear little old-time hand-braided rugs. Of course, 
the rugs are not on the menu, they go with the 
period effect. Doesn’t it all sound soothing?” 

“Yes, Patsy dear, I must admit I approach 
this trip with less apprehension than I have ever 
experienced in facing any other of your summer 
adventures. Still” — the dignified face assumed 
a look of uncertainty — “I have seen you turn a 
simple, four o’clock tea into a veritable cyclone.” 

Patsy Carroll laughed her gale of joy. There 
was no deceiving Aunt Martha. She had learned 


1 


PATSY CARROLL 


many lessons from the Wayfarers, that remark- 
able little hand-bag club, composed of four girls, 
with her niece Patricia Carroll as the organizer, 
prime-mover, genius, and deliverer. 

This last was, perhaps, Patsy’s most important 
function, for it always happened that the Way- 
farers inadvertantly fell upon, or into, some pre- 
dicament from which they required to be de- 
livered. Thus memories of these adventures of 
the previous three summers, in the Adirondacks, 
in the South, and in the Golden West, justified 
Aunt Martha’s comment on the versatility of 
Patsy — that she could turn a harmless little 
afternoon tea into a veritable cyclone. It really 
had happened. 

But New England! Surely that territory was 
safe from wild dangers at least; there was sure to 
be some relief, always, where mere humans were 
concerned — one could usually talk things over 
with a human being. Aunt Martha was, very 
probably, reasoning thus while Patsy thought: 

“Oh, joy! Old Cape Cod, with whales, maybe, 
coming to the back door o’ mornings for a cold 
bite ! And funny old folks with forefathers’ maps 
drawn right on their historic features; besides, 
demure Priscillas and the gallant Aldens ! I can’t 
decide whether I want a Pilgrim ghost, or a Bos- 


m OLD NEW ENGLAND 


3 


tonese high-brow for our mascot.” And all this 
and more — much more — flashed across the pro- 
spective mental screen of the irrepressible Patsy. 

She whisked things off her dressing table rather 
violently, and it may not be too critical to admit 
that some trinkets, usually kept in the left hand 
drawer, fell helplessly into the right, for Patsy 
was in a palpitating hurry, and those things amiss 
would be sure to stay until she returned from a 
conference with Mabel and Eleanor Perry, other- 
wise Mab and JSTell. 

“Bye-bye, Auntie!” she called, fluttering her 
hand to the little lady who was replacing some 
flowers on the dining room table. “I have to see 
the girls and I may stay over for tennis. If 
Bee should call up, will you just ask her to trot 
along and come in on the confab? 

“We are going to be dear, good children this 
time, auntie. Aren’t you glad we are not bound 
for Africa, or going up to Mars, or to some such 
remote region?” But Patsy was out of sight 
before Aunt Martha had framed an appropriate 
reply. 

Beatrice Forbes, the fourth and final member 
of the Wayfarers, met her just turning into the 
long drive that led up to the Perry homestead. 
Only three days remained now for the summer’s 


4 


PATSY CARROLL 


preparation, and it was apparent that all the 
girls realized there were still some “trifles” to 
be attended to. 

“What a relief,” greeted Beatrice, “not to have 
to gather together so many things ‘in case of’! 
— You know, Pat, my propensity for averting 
the disaster of needing things,” sighed the girl, 
falling into step with the rapid stride of Patsy. 

“Yes, Bee, I do know it. As a rule you load 
us up to our eyes at the start, then spend the 
summer trying to dig us out,” returned Patsy. 
“Yes, I believe New England is fairly well civ- 
ilized as to stores and supplies, seeing ‘as how’ 
they started out to experiment down there ’way 
back in 1620 .” 

Nell and Mab were on the porch, and they 
hailed the approaching Wayfarers. 

“Oh, Pat,” called Mabel, “I wonder can we 
take in Nantucket? I have been reading the 
weirdest tales about that island!” 

“The beauty of this trip is to be its absolute 
freedom from limitations,” announced Patsy, 
flopping down in a nest of red porch cushions. 
“And for once Aunt Martha is not scared blue. 
Not that she hasn’t always played fair, and stood 
by beautifully during every emergency,” Patsy 
hurried to apologize, “but, just naturally, it is a 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


5 


lot pleasanter to be approaching the source of 
all America’s boasted civilization, than to be plan- 
ning for wilds. You girls, of course, have heard” 
— with an explanatory smirk — “that the Fore- 
fathers did, actually, come in by way of old 
Plymouth ” 

“Yes, we have — ^lieard ” mocked Beatrice. 

“We have even gone swimming in the same water 
that once washed the famous rock.” 

“How unsanitary !” continued Patsy. “But I 
say, girls, joking aside, the introduction, or pre- 
amble, or preface of this summer’s jaunt, is so 
ominously tranquil that I fear a complete reversal 
of conditions before we are well under sail, so 
to speak. Never knew it to fail,” she predicted. 
“Calm before the storm, and all that sort of thing. 
At any rate, let’s rejoice in the calm start. It 
counts for considerable in getting off propiti- 
ously.” 

“We are practically all packed up, except hats 
and soft waists,” remarked Nell. “Mab always 
wants to leave them until the very last minute, 
with the result, often, of leaving them alto- 
gether,” she finished a little critically. 

“Now, sis, you know I only left your leghorn 
hat out last time because the brim would have to 
bend ” 


6 


PATSY CARROLL 


“I really never missed it, Mab, and was glad 
not to have to bother with it,” conciliated Nell. 
“But I would like to get a few waists in ‘in case 
of,’ as Bee puts it.” 

“And Aunt Martha has an entire steamer 
trunk packed with ‘in case ofs,’ ” added Patsy. 
“I keep telling her we are sure to find a chain 
of stores at the corner, but she insists we might 
leave civilization for Maine woods or Cape Cod 
oddities. Really, New England does look a bit 
extensive, when one consults the booklets,” and 
with a motion she indicated a rapid consultation 
of quite a small library of booklets. 

“I had hoped we might make this a self-sup- 
porting summer,” put in Beatrice, who had am- 
bitions toward the science of sociology. “There 
are so many opportunities now.” 

“Yes, and we would all feel so much better 
satisfied to demonstrate our personal ability in 
self support,” agreed Patsy promptly. “The 
Child Welfare Special would be ideal as an agent 
for our enterprise. You know that is a motorized 
station that goes into rural districts, to give 
mothers instruction along the regular Child Wel- 
fare lines.” 

“But one would have to know nursing,” inter- 
rupted Eleanor. 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


7 


“No, the work is educational, not clinical,” ex- 
plained Patsy, “and you know we have all had 
training in that line in this year at Lynwood. I 
wouldn’t be afraid to go motoring down along the 
old colonies, to bring to the conservative little 
mothers there the modern message of proper child 
raising,” said Patsy, snatching off her Panama 
sailor, and giving her sleeve a premonitory up- 
ward hitch, as if in preparation for the work un- 
der discussion. “But the trouble is, we never 
could get dad and Aunt Martha to consent,” she 
continued. “They would suspect child welfare 
measles, child welfare chickenpox and all the 
other possible juvenile attainments. No, girls, 
I have gone all over all that, and am convinced we 
will be obliged to rumble off in the ten-two Bos- 
ton Express, all parlor cars. Wherever we go 
later, we will be forced to leave New York City 
after the manner made famous by the so called 
‘idle rich,’ ” she decided. 

“Our folks would simply keep us home if they 
even suspected we might go in for that sort of 
work,” spoke Mabel. “Mother is simply terrified 
at anything that looks like slumming.” 

“This isn’t anything like slumming, Mab,” 
Patsy hurried to explain. “The Child Welfare 
Special is a wonderfully equipped ofiice on 


8 


PATSY CARROLL 


wheels. It has all the contrivances for demon- 
strating child work ; a tent, blankets, cots, house- 
hold utensils and even wiring apparatus,’’ fin- 
ished Patsy. 

“Where did you get all your information, 
Pat?” asked Beatrice. “I thought I was the only 
one of the group that went in for that sort of 
thing.” 

“Indeed not ! I have been delving in field work 
all spring, and our leader complimented me, more 
than once, on my — sunny way!” She discounted 
the recalled compliment with a set of foolish 
antics. They would mean nothing in words, but 
were most effective in reality. 

“I would love to have a turn in that demon- 
stration car,” declared Eleanor, “and I quite 
agree that adventuring in luxury is rather stupid, 
compared with the possiblities Pat enumerates. 
But, as Mab says, the folks wouldn’t hear of it, 
if they knew in advance.” 

“You have voiced the solution of the problem,” 
said Patsy facetiously. “That little word ‘ad- 
vance’ is the real difficulty, and they must not 
know until thereafter. So just bide your time, 
girls, and prepare to take the ten-two. I hereby 
bespeak for the end chair, or sofa. I love to sit 
up front and play school with the whole coach.” 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


9 


“Yes, and spot possible mysteries in the way 
of elopements, or kidnapping tragedies, I sup- 
pose,” teased Beatrice. “I am just wondering, 
Pat, what thriller you will lead us into this sea- 
son? Last summer we thought the Golden West 
about the zenith of our points of interest, but 
now, dear, little, old New England seems fairly 
to whistle witch — calls out to us, even at this dis- 
tance. I am just positive we will all come back 
fit to be interviewers in the New England branch 
of the reference library — if for nothing worse.” 

“What’s the itinerary?” asked Eleanor. 

“First stop at Bridgeport,” answered Patsy, 
“but we won’t get out there. Then just along to 
New London. I think we might like a little boat- 
ing there. Good place to show off all your pretty 
white serges, girls. I always think of New Lon- 
don as a place where the original Willie left the 
yacht — ‘Willie off the yacht,’ you remember. 
But I believe the place has become quite com- 
mercialized since the war. It has a big govern- 
ment pier, and no private boats may go in there. 
Don’t you remember the famous, sneaking Ger- 
man submarine that tried out the American 
course by coming in here that way?” 

“I try to forget,” admitted Eleanor. “And 
I don’t believe I would feel safe on any sucK 


Id 


TATSY CARROLL 


waters, even now. I hate to think of the word 
‘submarine." ” 

“Oh, I do remember,” echoed Mabel. “But 
it seems to me the waters there are always white 
with sail boats. At any rate, let us arrange to 
stop off — for a day. What do you think, Pat?” 
She held her pencil poised ready to insert the 
stop-over clause in her little, red-leather note 
book. 

“It is so close to New York,” demurred Patsy, 
“and — ^well, we’ll see.” 

“Possibly so tame,” assisted Beatrice. “But 
even at a place like New London, Pat, you could 
rescue a drowning youth with a famous family 
pedigree in his white flannel pocket ; or, you could 
even try your Child Welfare out in the clam 
diggings. Let us leave the details of stop-overs 
to the impulse of the moment,” counselled the 
student Beatrice. “Then we won’t have to be 
continually apologizing to ourselves for breaking 
schedules.” 

“Lovely idea,” drawled Patsy. “Self expres- 
sion finds its true outlet in absolute freedom! 
There, that’s all original and a yard wide. I 
made it up just like that! Doesn’t it sound 
pretty?” 

“If you don’t analyze it, it does,” answered 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


II 


Mabel, “but as a proverb it is dreadfully shy on 
the prov. Pat, you’re a fraud ! I know perfectly 
well, you have some thrilling scheme of real ad- 
venture up that rather soiled sleeve. Yes, I 
know you played tennis in it yesterday, so don’t 
apologize. All I ask is that you let us know 
within a hair’s breadth of the hairbreath escape. 
I’d be thankful for that,” concluded blue-eyed 
little Mabel, giving her porch swing “more gas.” 

“What makes you all think something thrilling 
is bound to happen?” asked Patsy — chuckles sup- 
plying her own particular answer. 

“Because it always does,” said Nell simply. 

“And because four girls on adventure bent 
tempt the fates,” suggested Beatrice. 

“Much more ‘because’ we know our Patsy 
Carroll,” offered Mabel. “But I notice, Pat 
dear, no one is threatening to drop out on that 
account. Rather, are we all very keen at the 
prospect.” 

“Very well,” replied Patsy. “I’ll do my best 
to live up to — or down — ^to the reputation. But 
what can you expect of New England?” 

“Heaps,” finished Eleanor, and no one offered 
contradiction for the prediction. 


CHAPTER II 


WAYFAKERS TRUE TO TYPE 

I T was a tidy little party, indeed, that threaded 
its way through the animated carpet of hu- 
mans which stretched out on the great floor 
of the New York station. 

But, even at nine-fifty-flve, the people who 
were coming in and going out kept the stream 
moving in each direction, and when Patsy and 
her three chums, with Aunt JMartha as the guest 
of honor, glided in through the gates toward the 
Boston express, there was an air of expectancy 
noticeable in the very way the porter “toted” the 
bags, and the manner in which the ticket-taker 
punched the tickets and, surely, in the way the 
train porter handed them all aboard. 

Again this was all in the view point, and un- 
questionably entirely hidden from each and every 
railroad hand, while flagrantly obvious to every- 
one of the Wayfarers. Even Aunt Martha clung 
12 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


13 


tightly to her beaded hand-bag, and asked Patsy, 
more than once, if the Pullman tickets were surely 
in her own blue, morocco pocket-book. 

Just stepping aboard, Patsy, who trailed along 
last, was conscious of an unusual stir at the steps. 
Turning, she faced squarely a young man with a 
still younger girl in his arms. A glance showed 
that the girl was helpless, unable to walk, and a 
second hurried look outlined her very strong re- 
semblance to the young man who carried her — 
her brother, of course. 

Patsy stepped inside the vestibule quickly, to 
make room for the invalid’s entry, and with a 
sweep of her arm directed her own party to clear 
the aisle, while the young man, followed by a 
nurse or attendant, passed along. 

Instantly the eyes of all three Wayfarers 
focussed on Patsy, and they said in a glance, as 
clearly as if in words : 

“There’s your mystery!” 

But Patsy was sublimely indifferent and merely 
produced the chair tickets, then swung into the 
tower of upholstery, quite as if the handsome 
boy were not, at that exact moment, gently plac- 
ing his helpless charge in a chair almost opposite. 

Mabel and Beatrice were not quite so indif- 
ferent, however, and while Patsy and Eleanor 


14 


PATSY CARROLL 


adjusted the small hand-luggage, the other two 
cast furtive glances at the very beautiful girl in 
the chair across the way. The boy, finally satis- 
fied that the girl was comfortable, dropped into 
his own chair and sighed with audible content. 

“All right, sis?” he asked in a boy’s free, un- 
hampered way. “Like it?” 

“Love it, Torry, and you’re a darling 1 I never 
could have ventured without you,” replied the 
girl, in a tone but a little lower than the boy’s, 
and easily heard across the aisle. 

“Wouldn’t have let you,” he finished, opening 
up a magazine, and laying it in the blue, silken 
lap opposite him. 

“I just want to look,” sighed the girl, and her 
“look” swept over the Wayfarers. “It’s so won- 
derful to be actually — ^traveling!” 

“You bet !” exclaimed Torry. “Well, look just 
as long as you like. After a while there will be 
more to look at.” 

Eleanor chuckled, she didn’t giggle; it was 
more grown up than that; and Torry, for the 
first time, glanced over at what he had so un- 
gallantly “turned down,” as not being the best 
there was to look at. He smiled into his paper, 
and turned uneasily until his chair swung full- 
face to the window. 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


15 


Rather uncomfortable, Beatrice and Mabel 
also swung their chairs about, and when Patsy 
asked where was the collapsible cup for Aunt 
Martha, Beatrice stammered and flushed, until 
Patsy laughed outright. 

“Hush, do, Pat,” begged Mabel. “I feel too 
foolish for words. And the sweet sister may 
think — we’re trying to flirt!” 

This banality checked the flow of laughter from 
Patsy. She loved a joke, but not at such a 
price. 

“Let me take your veil off. Auntie?” she asked 
Aunt Martha directly. “It is so warm in here, 
under the earth, but presently we’ll be dug out 
into the living world again,” and she unpinned 
the bit of suggested material that scarcely left a 
definite thread on the small embroidered toque to 
which it clung. 

The incident closed that way. Passengers all 
around fell to their own particular traveling di- 
versions, and the big express crawled out of New 
York into the less-mechanically constructed world 
touching on the border lines of Connecticut. 

Not much in the way of real scenery greeted 
the indifferent glances raised, now and then, to 
the window’s illusion of stationary train and 
swirling landscape; but New York was falhng 


PATSY CARROLL 


i6 


behind in the race, and, according to Patsy, that 
was the main idea. 

The inevitable bride and groom shed rice and 
self consciousness along the aisle, as they passed 
out to the vestibule, ostensibly for stronger air. 
But the Wayfarers knew better, and even Patsy, 
mentor of decorum, did not hesitate to glance 
after the pretty little bride, who, in the vestibule, 
proceeded to shake things violently, hopeful of 
shedding all the rice at one spill. 

“The bridal trail from Brooklyn,” whispered 
Patsy to Aunt Martha. “Why do people con- 
sider it a criminal offence to get married?” 

“Child!” charged the shocked little woman, 
“rice and confetti are merely marks of — of ” 

“Bevenge or jealousy I” asserted Patsj^ “And 
it may be fun, but it’s a very heathenish sort. 
That child’s honeymoon is being spoiled because 
of it.” 

“Wrong, Pat,” challenged Mabel, “the rice 
simply furnished an excuse for distraction. 
Brides love it, I’ve heard them say so.” 

“It may be,” assented Patsy, running her slen- 
der fingers through her bronze hair that seemed 
to resent the heat, “but don’t hold it against me. 
Make mine rose leaves, girls, please do! Now, 
a shower of rose leaves has a point in meaning. 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


17 


anl I love to toss them down from the organ loft 
myself, but rice! Ugh! Tantalizing and mean- 
ingless! Here we are at Bridgeport! Same old 
bridge and tressels I remember since childhood, 
[Auntie. See the huge sign board that you al- 
ways read out in separate letters to me ! And it 
is the same brand of medicine advertised!” 

‘T don’t feel like taking any lunch,” replied 
Aunt Martha, without apology for the digres- 
sion, “but, if you girls care to eat. I’ll go into the 
dining car and ” 

“Watch us eat?” teased Eleanor. “Auntie, 
dear, I vote with you in the negative. Traveling 
on a close day kills my appetite.” 

“Come in and have cream and coffee, or tea, 
or even lemonade,” suggested Patsy. “We won’t 
get to Boston for hours, and then it will be past 
lunch time.” 

This plan was finally agreed upon, and as the 
Wayfarers passed into the dining car they en- 
countered a porter with the small table some- 
times set up at the parlor coach window ledge, 
for the special convenience of a particular 
traveler. 

“Tony is going to fix up dinner for Sis,” said 
Eleanor. “How queer we should meet a Torry 
this summer, and a Terry, last.” 


i8 PATSY CARROLL 


“Meet him!” chorused the others, while Nell 
attempted to smile off the inference. 

“But just the same, Nell, I am sure we pres- 
ently shall meet pretty, helpless Sis, brother or 
no brother, I simply must speak to that lovely 
invahd. It seems unsociable not to.” 

“Oh, you wouldn’t, Pat!” exclaimed Bee. 

“But why not?” parried Patsy. “Just because 
a girl has a brother does not ostracize her from 
our own ken. She may want to know some- 
thing ” 

“Your name, for instance?” 

“Or what you do to make your hair curl?” 

“Or, how you come by one dimple, instead of 
two,” a suggestion from each of Patsy’s three 
companions. 

“Very well. Be as rude as you like, but I shall 
speak to Sis. Aunt Martha, do have tea. It 
will prepare you for our New England tourna- 
ment,” and Patsy ordered tea for Aunt Martha, 
with “variations” for the girls. 

Just then a very broad smile suffused the face 
of every single Wayfarer, for at that moment, 
the young man labeled Tony stood at Aunt 
Martha’s elbow! 

“I beg your pardon, madam,” he spoke through 
a smile of his own, “but I saw you leave this in 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


19 


your chair, and I thought — perhaps I had better 
hand it to you, myself.” 

It was her very best hand-bag, and contained 
so many valuable, or invaluable, things ! 

“Thank you very much,” breathed Aunt 
Martha, showing relieved fear at the disaster 
averted. “It was kind of you to bring it to me.” 

“Yes, thank you indeed,” spoke Patsy bravely. 
“That would have been a loss,” and her smile was 
even more definite than the others of that series. 

Accepting the expression of gratitude with 
easy grace, the youth sauntered off, and, as his 
gray coat tail brushed out of the vestibule door, 
the girls allowed their choking struggles some lee- 
way. 

“There!” said Patsy triumphantly. “Wasn’t 
that easy?” 

“Pat Carroll! Did you stick that bag in the 
arm of the chair purposely?'^ asked Bee, aside. 
Aunt Martha was too busy with her tea to heed 
all their girlish prattle. 

“Of course I did — ^not! Fate played right in- 
to my hands, as she always does,” with a grimace 
of apology for the egotism. “Now I can go 
straight in, and ask Sis how she enjoyed her 
luncheon.” 

Aunt Martha looked up suddenly. “Girls,” 


20 


PATSY CARROLL 


she spoke, “I think it was a most considerate 
thing for that young man to fetch me my bag 
himself. Had he passed it on to the porter there 
is no telling what might have become of it, and 
I have so many valuables in it. Patsy, I think 
I shall speak to the young lady invalid, and per- 
haps you girls may like to make her acquaintance. 
Her life is so limited, poor child.” 

This was one of the occasions when Aunt 
Martha’s wisdom directly supported the girls’ 
nonsense, and a volley of intelligent glances was 
promptly shot out in a grateful acknowledge- 
ment. 

“I mean to speak to her directly. Auntie,” re- 
plied Patsy honestly. ‘T never saw brother and 
sister devotion more marked than that which these 
two evince. The porter might have carried her 
in, of course, but her brother would not allow 
it. That’s the sort of brother to have; isn’t it, 
girls?” 

And no one, just then, felt like spoiling that 
sentiment even with the frivolity of a smile. 


CHAPTER III 


INTRODUCING BETH AND TORRY 

“TT was all Torry’s idea/’ the invalid was 
I saying to her audience of Wayfarers. “He 
^ insisted on giving up his entire vacation to 
me. We are going to visit the old family home- 
stead, out in Massachusetts.” She had just in- 
troduced herself as Beth Brandon, and her 
brother Torry. 

“Have you been ill long?” asked Aunt Martha 
with considerate hesitation. 

“Two years,” replied the other bravely. “It 
is just my knees, and we are hopeful they will 
grow stronger. I am perfectly well, otherwise.” 

The glow in her cheeks attested to the truth 
of her claim, and Patsy further supported the 
recovery hope by recalling a complete case of 
Molly Shepperd, whose “knees were disabled for 
three whole years, but finally became as strong 
as ever.” 


21 


22 


PATSY CARROLL 


Torry was out in another coach during these 
introductory formalities, and just now came 
swinging down the aisle with something under 
his coat. 

“Oh, he is bringing Zippy!” exclaimed the girl 
happily. “He has been all alone in the luggage 
car, with only my chair for company.” 

Zippy, a very lively young terrier, was strug- 
gling against the cage made by Torry’s two vigo- 
rous arms, and was only held back by that and 
the coat screen combined. The dog whined and 
fretted to reach his young mistress, and the girls 
swung their chairs around to make way for his 
coming. 

Presently little Zippy smothered the invalid 
with “kisses,” while her brother accepted the in- 
troduction to the girls, which she was almost 
vainly attempting to give over the terrier’s frisky 
head. 

“He can’t stay long, Beth,” cautioned the boy. 
“I had to bamboozle every porter from here to 
the baggage car. But he made such a fuss when 
he saw me. Your chair is rather a poor personal 
substitute, sis, when it comes to a long journey 
for Zip.” 

“There, there!” Beth was quieting the excited 
little animal. “We will soon be in Boston, then 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


23 


they won’t make you travel as baggage any more. 
Zippy.” This tone of voice seemed to mean 
“quiet” to the terrier, and he immediately made 
himself comfortable and pretty on the arm of 
the invalid’s chair. 

“It seems a shame to coop him up,” commented 
Patsy, making friends by a reassuring stroke of 
the little black-tipped head. “He is so well-be- 
haved.” 

“And reliable,” added the youth. “I would 
trust my sister with Zip rather than with a much 
more pretentious creature.” 

“Yes, when Selma, my maid, leaves me. Zip 
is put in charge. In fact, he very often usurps 
her place,” said the girl, with a friendly smile for 
the mute maid who was tatting fine lace in the 
next chair. 

Passengers all about them seemed entirely 
agreeable to Zippy’s presence in their parlor car, 
but the brother and sister had no idea of imposing 
upon their generosity, so poor, little, outcast Zip 
was soon picked up from his perfectly inoffensive 
snooze on the velour chair arm. 

“Come, boy,” coaxed Torry, as the girls of- 
fered affectionate little farewell pats to the help- 
less terrier. “Give him a biscuit, sis, and that 
may compensate some.” 


24 


PATSY CARROLL 


Selma, the maid, took a biscuit from the 
small leather bag, but Zippy sniffed it indiffer- 
ently. 

“Go along, boy,” coaxed Beth; and even at 
the three little words, her dog picked up his ears 
intelligently. “Be good,” her voice changed 
again. “And we’ll soon be home.” At the word 
“home” Zippy wanted to jump, but Torry held 
him securely, meanwhile making his way back to 
the baggage car. 

Ordinarily a dog in a train coach simply means 
some over-fussy owner, who resorts to the bag- 
and-draw-string trick of keeping a pet poodle 
with her against the rules ; but this was different, 
and even the remotest spectator, a cynical look- 
ing chap, in a distant chair, who stuck his feet 
out recklessly, smiled as Zippy passed him. 

“The little dog was sent to me from grand- 
father’s home, after he passed away last year,” 
explained the invalid. “Gran’dad trained him to 
be a one-man dog, as they express it, and was 
sure he would be great company for me. He was 
right. Zippy is as intelligent as many a child 
might be, and gran’dad was a wonderful teacher, 
for terriers are usually very self-willed.” The 
dark eyes flickered to ward off a threatening haze 
that just hinted sadness, and Eleanor quickly 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


25 


came to the rescue with : “Have you ever visited 
the homestead before, Miss Brandon?” 

“Oh, yes, indeed! We always had Thanks- 
giving there until — smother went. That was five 
years ago. Torry is at college now, and I study 
at home. We are practically alone, for even our 
guardian is abroad.” 

A shifting of luggage and general stirring of 
passengers gave warning of Boston’s nearness, 
and the Wayfarers hurriedly expressed hopes of 
renewing acquaintance with Miss Brandon dur- 
ing the summer. Aunt Martha was making 
doubly sure of the precious beaded bag, while 
Bee and Mab secured the small satchels from 
overhead racks, not waiting for the porter’s at- 
tention. (Whisking of coats is ever more profit- 
able to porters than reaching for parasols.) 
When Torry returned he delayed his own prepa- 
rations to talk with Aunt Martha. 

Patsy, who had taken a strong liking to Beth, 
lingered with her while the others fluttered about. 

“You know,” confided the invalid. “Brother 
would not be satisfied with the reports we have 
been getting from the homestead, and that is 
one reason why we are going down to see things 
for ourselves. The farm is rented to a very hon- 
prable man, who is perfectly satisfied with the 


26 


PATSY CARROLL 


acreage; but the house!” She smiled a queer, 
cynical smile. “There are such stories rumored 
about it that no one can stay there in peace. Of 
course it is all rank nonsense, and we know it, 
hut some of our relatives,” again the reserving 
expression, “opposed grandfather’s will, so, nat- 
urally, they are not helping to straighten things 
out.” 

“No telling hut we may apply for the place 
as a camp, if we get through our sight-seeing in 
time to settle down,” proposed Patsy, impulsively 
exchanging cards and addresses with Miss Bran- 
don. “But everyone insists on seeing Plymouth 
first — ^when in doubt, go to Plymouth, you know.” 

“That is one of the spots I count on visiting,” 
said Beth a little wistfully. “But I shall not 
allow brother to stick by me every moment of 
his precious vacation. He needs swimming, boat- 
ing and hiking, and a lot of other forms of amuse- 
ments; and wouldn’t it be lovely if you really 
did camp at our old place?” 

The approach of “brother” ended his laudation, 
and a general exodus followed. It seemed more 
considerate for the Wayfarers to leave Beth in 
her seat, and not remain to see her carried out by 
the valiant Torry. The leave-taking was sincere 
to a point nearly affectionate, and included a 


OLD NEW^ ENGLAND 


27 


parting promise to visit the homestead, if pos- 
sible. Finally, the newly-made friends separated. 

“I have always wondered why persons in any 
way helpless appear so whimsically attractive,” 
Patsy remarked, passing out in the line slowly 
detraining. 

“Because, my dear, they have that quiet and 
poise sure to follow prolonged concentration,” 
explained Aunt Martha. “While we continue 
to flutter about, we must expect to appear — 
fluttery,” which was rather a departure in correct 
speech for Miss Martha. 

Vacation throngs populated the Boston ter- 
minal thoroughfare now, as the Wayfarers 
blended into their makeup on the early summer 
afternoon, and they experienced their first realiza- 
tion of touring through New England. 

“It seems to me,” Bee remarked critically, 
“people here are distinctly different from those 
situated twice as far west from New York. Even 
the mannerisms, aside from their accent, seems 
so very ” 

“Not provincial,” warned Patsy. “Don’t ut- 
ter anything so limited in Boston, Bee. But I 
agree with you, the people have a quality of their 
own. Just hear that girl singing to that tall 
one! The music is the regular tone for every 


28 


PATSY CARROLL 


day occasions, compared with which our own dia- 
logues slump into monotonous monotones. Let 
me take your arni. Aunt Martha. A long car 
ride does things to one’s museles.” 

“Rather a relief not to have to bother about 
our own motor, dear,” remarked the faithful 
little aunt. “I don’t mind stiff joints from train 
travel, but the effects of motoring over rough 
roads is deeidedly more unpleasant.” 

Mab and Nell were engaging the taxi for their 
hotel, and, in spite of some delays, it really did 
appear simpler to jog along in a taxi, without 
further responsibility than paying the fare. Con- 
gested traffic seemed no lure for motoring. 

“I wonder will we run across our friends of 
the chair car?” soliloquized Mab. “A pretty and 
helpless girl seems a regular magnet for personal 
attraction.” 

“I intend to make sure of running across 
them,” returned Patsy. “If we can cover our 
sight-seeing in reasonable time, perhaps we’ll hire 
the old homestead as our resting quarters.” 

“But the young lady said there was something 
peeuliar about the old place; didn’t she?” queried 
Aunt Martha. 

“No, not about the place , returned Patsy, 
“just about the folks opposing her grandfather’s 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


12 . 

will. She couldn’t tell me more on such slight 
acquaintance, but I suppose it is the usual thing 
— ^making a house untenantable, for spite.” 

“And I rather think a boy like Torry would 
be able to straighten out the little matter,” com- 
mented Mabel. “The way he held Zip in check 
indicated some strength of character,” she ven- 
tured. “That dog simply worships the girl.” 

“Zippy is only a fox terrier,” reasoned Patsy. 
“The other trouble may be ‘human ghosts,’ and 
you all know they are the most virulent type of 
pesky critters. Here we are. Mab, your vanity 
case is wide open and displays your looking glass. 
As if a Wayfarer cared for looks when out ad- 
venturing!” 

But Patsy’s own appearance belied the paren- 
thesis, for she looked fresh and pretty as ever, 
in her simple blue voile with the soft white mull 
ruffle at neck and elbows ; while her com- 
panions were equally presentable. Bee wore 
practical linen, Mabel was in her ever reliable 
Belgium blue, and Eleanor appeared quite as 
serviceable in a shaded green duck with fine white 
pipings. 

The day’s journey had done little to spoil the 
appearance of the four happy young Way- 
farers, with dainty Aunt Martha in her dark 


3 ^> 


PATSY CARROLL 


blue taffeta, and, as they emerged in the first 
lap of the jaunt through old New England, even 
the other hurrying vacationists made opportunity 
to glance approval at the little party. 

“Girls,” said Aunt Martha, settling down 
finally in her own room at the stop-over hotel, 
“I had a word aside with that very nice young 
man 

“Oh, you did!” gleefully cried out Patsy, 
shamelessly mocking her prim little auntie. 
“And when was this little word aside perpe- 
trated?” 

“Now, Patsy dear, don’t be so boisterous, and 
just see! You have swept away my cards!” 
(Patsy swept them back quite as promptly.) 
“Thank you, child; now please listen to me. 
Those children are undertaking a very serious 
piece of business alone, and I scarcely under- 
stand why other relatives have allowed them to 
go on without more experienced help.” 

“AVhat, Auntie, do you mean about the old 
homestead affair? The young man seems easily 
able to manage a piece of business of that char- 
acter,” Patsy remarked. 

“That is only one phase of their undertaking. 
The boy spoke to me because he admitted his 
fears for his sister’s comfort in her traveling 


m OLD NEW ENGLAND 


II 

venture since her disablement,” explained Aunt 
Martha. 

The girls, who had been fluttering about in the 
initial hours, making themselves at home in the 
Boston hotel, now settled down promptly to hear 
this version of the Brandon’s summer venture, as 
Aunt Martha announced: 

“The real purpose of their trip is to put the 
young lady under the care of a Boston spe- 
cialist.” 

“Well?” questioned Beatrice, puzzled at the 
serious tone in recounting this simple matter. 

“To do this, the young man said, he felt obliged 
to make a very determined effort to sell the 
grandfather’s estate,” went on the little lady. 
“His sister, he declared, knows nothing of their 
financial obligations, but he had such faith in this 
particular doctor, he would not delay the treat- 
ment until such times as the property might be 
sold without opposition. It is a strange thing 
how a little money may bring real bitterness into 
families !” she sighed rather wearily in conclusion. 

“But what is the trouble?” demanded the prac- 
tical Patsy. “Don’t the other heirs want to sell 
now?” 

“I could not understand the details, but I gath- 
ered that this young lady was her grandfather’s 


32 


PATSY CARROLL 


favorite, and, perhaps on account of her disable- 
ment, he especially provided for her. The Bran- 
don’s are orphans, the boy told me, but I rather 
think that young man quite capable of assuming 
the head of his family as far as business is con- 
cerned. However, as regards his sister’s health, 
and very probably, operations, well — ” and she 
stopped and shifted uneasily — “all I can say is 
a young man needs someone with motherly ex- 
perience to look after his sister under such crit- 
ical conditions.” 

“Even ordinary girls, under most ordinary 
conditions, cannot get along without,” said Patsy, 
pressing an affectionate cheek against the brow 
of her own sympathetic, yet wise little aunt. 
“What would I do without you?” 

The only real mother this splendid girl ever 
knew, did her credit at the moment, for Robert 
Carroll, father of Patsy, had entrusted to this 
sister the entire care of his girl, left motherless 
at an early age. 

“Pat, I see our mystery clearly now,” said 
Mabel, who was already out of her traveling 
clothes, refreshed and redressed in a cool after- 
noon frock. “I can imagine Torry going after 
the disturbances that make the old homestead un- 
tenantable and unsalable. Nothing so common- 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


33 


place as ghosts, of course, but, whatever the 
trouble is, Torry is the very hoy to go at it. I 
fear me the old homestead will be sold before we 
ever have a chance to look it over.” 

“But the first work to be done is the girl’s 
hospital treatment,” Aunt Martha gave out. It 
was quite remarkable that she had acquired so 
much information in that “word aside with the 
boy.” 

“Oh, where did I leave my timetable folder?” 
suddenly asked Patsy. “I put Beth’s card in it. 
Can I have lost it?” She was shuffling through 
all her papers, in her bag and her card-case. “I 
am sure I put it in the folder.” 

“But even if you have lost it, we all know the 
name Brandon,” said Nell. “Why take so much 
trouble hunting, Pat?” 

“Because I never even glanced at the card, and 
we don’t know where the old homestead is situ- 
ated. Beth wrote it all on the back of the card, 
and I did not bother further. Did anyone hap- 
pen to hear the place mentioned?” 

No one had heard it, each admitted. 

“Nell, the card is gone,” decided Patsy rather 
dolefully. “But perhaps they will write us. I 
gave this hotel as our first two weeks’ forwarding 
address.” 


34 


^PATSY CARROLL 


“I am sure Beth will write,” reasoned Nell. 

“Beth may not be able to, for a while,” added 
Aunt Martha. “But, girls, as soon as you are 
ready we will go down for dinner. I believe I 
can eat something now.” 

“Just a minute. Auntie, I must work up a 
smile,” said Patsy. 

“Do, dear,” urged Mab; “forget the lost card.” 

“We may find something more interesting be- 
low,” laughed Nell. 

“Lead me to it,” sighed Patsy. 


CHAPTER IV 


A 5’WVEB AND it’s WAYS 

B ut Beth and her brother Torry were less 
fortunate than the Wayfarers in their 
traveling connections, made after the 
Boston Express rumbled into the Old Colony 
station. 

Gently and with unhidden affection, the boy 
lifted his sister from the train and placed her into 
the waiting wheel-chair. The maid, Selma, at- 
tended to all hand-luggage, and then took up 
her post at the side of the chair until young Mr. 
Brandon should come back from the baggage car 
with frisky little Zippy. The crowds had 
dwindled down to the few careful folk, who ever 
shun the rush for more secure footway; and Beth 
was wide-eyed with pleasurable anticipation for 
her holiday in New England, after the monotony 
of her close confinement since the sturdy limbs 
refused to support the former welcome burden, 

35 


36 


PATSY CARROLL 


imposed by pretty, vivacious Beth Brandon. She 
did not sigh, although those looking at her patient 
face, no doubt, turned away filled with solemn 
sympathy, for, to the girl in the chair, a big ad- 
venture was beckoning, and Torrington Bran- 
don could be depended upon for its success in 
fulfillment. 

“Is he coming, Selma?’’ she asked, after a 
prolonged wait, and no sign of the brother’s re- 
turn. 

“I do not see him. Miss Beth,” replied the 
maid, herself showing some anxiety. “But I 
guess he will come soon; yes, very soon.” 

The very last passenger had shuffled by, and 
the trainmen were pushing the little carts loaded 
high with trunks and satchels, when the smile on 
the invalid’s face kindled into a glow, and Torry 
was seen approaching. 

“He is coming!” she exclaimed. “I was just 
beginning to worry.” 

“But he has no Zippy,” said the maid, in mild 
surprise that their dog should not be with the 
young man hurrying along the platform. 

“Oh, Torry, where is Zip?” demanded the in- 
valid anxiously. 

“I just came back to get you, Beth,” he ex- 
plained. “Zip raced off, and I realized he had 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


37 


seen someone he knew. Can you imagine who it 
was, Beth?” 

“In Boston? Of course I cannot! Who?” 

“Bell and Mildred,” he answered. “I was so 
surprised ” 

But Beth’s face fell. The news did not convey 
pleasure, neither did her brother attempt to hide 
his own irritation. 

“Yes,” he continued, pushing the chair along 
rather quickly. “I felt Zip pull, and before I 
knew what he was after, he had whisked right up 
to the two belligerent cousins. They patted him 
until they saw me looming up in the rear, then 
they seemed to grow taller,” he finished quiz- 
zically. 

“Didn’t they speak to you; and where is Zip?” 
asked Beth. 

“Oh, yes, they spoke to me, but I wouldn’t 
want to have depended upon their brief words 
for a welcome in Boston. And Zip is having a 
nice time now, in the far end of the restaurant, 
eating a real pretty dish of beef stew. Poor little 
Zip was very hungry.” 

“Are they — the girls, gone?” faltered his sis- 
ter. 

“I hope so. They almost choked with surprise 
when they saw me, and I didn’t risk the news that 


38 


PATSY, CARROLL 


you also were in town, for Millie seemed threat- 
ened with something dreadful at my single pres- 
ence. But I’m glad I met them,” he said more 
decisively. “Their attitude gives me a clue to 
work upon.” 

“And Zip knew them?” 

“Sure thing! But he has some intuition, at 
that, for a couple of frisks and he was back to me, 
a very-much-disappointed doggie. He really 
acted as if he resented their slighting his royal 
master.” 

They had reached the end of the long plat- 
form, and the young man stopped to make some 
inquiries. 

“If you are not too tired, Sis,” he proposed, 
“we will just walk along to the hotel. I feel 
like bracing a little — stiff from the ride,” he de- 
clared adroitly. “Selma, if you want to take a 
taxi ” 

“Oh, no, indeed,” interposed the maid. “I can 
just put this bag in the chair at front — ^there. 
Then a very little hand-one ” 

“All right, we’ll make a hike out of our initial 
number,” said the boy. “Here is where I re- 
claim the ravenous Zip. I won’t be but a few 
minutes this time.” 

And he was back with the frisky little animal 


7N OLD NEW ENGEAND 


39 


in just about the time specified. Up to the side 
of the wheel chair sprang Zip, and cuddling in 
with familiar confidence, he scarcely deigned to 
gaze out at historic old Boston, as they trundled 
along. 

Approaching one of the angles peculiar to the 
streets of the Hub, our friends noticed among the 
autos one, a small, undeniably new affair, that 
seemed unable to keep in line. Without comment 
both Beth and Torry watched the machine in its 
zigzag course, and, before either realized their 
actual danger, the small car shot suddenly out 
from the thoroughfare and jerked against the 
curb. 

“Oh, Torry I” exclaimed Beth as her brother 
quickly swung her chair under the protection of 
an arch. “That will surely ” 

The crash came before Beth finished her sen- 
tence, for, no sooner had the car touched the curb, 
than it made a second bound over the sidewalk 
and up to the window of a tea shop! 

“Take the chair, Selma,” ordered Torry hur- 
riedly, as he rushed to the side of the obstreper- 
ous motor. 

Fortunately the first impact against the curb 
seemed to give the driver a chance to apply 
some control, for the second spurt was mu^ 


3-0 


PATSY CARROLL 


less in velocity, and almost harmless in the final 
smash. 

Torry was first to reach the side of the terri- 
fied driver, who happened to be a little lady, all 
alone with her alarming experience. 

“You’re all right, no damage at all,” Torry 
quickly assured her, rather gleefully, and the 
simple words had a magical effect, for, as he 
spoke, the woman jumped up and sprang out of 
the car, ready, it appeared, to hug the innocent 
Torry. 

“No damage? No one killed? No big win- 
dow broken?” she gasped, holding convulsively 
to Torry’s arm, while the crowd, that seems ever 
to emerge from the very atmosphere of excite- 
ment, looked on with its usual quizzical eyes. 

“Not a thing wrong, beyond your bent fen- 
der,” he added. “But let me take you inside the 
tea room while ” 

“Torrington Brandon! You wonderful boy!” 
she gasped, this time actually perpetrating the 
hug. “However did you happen here? Don’t 
you know me?” 

“Can’t just recall — ” faltered the surprised 
Torry, “but better come inside. The police of- 
ficer will want to talk to you ” 

“You keep by me,” implored the greatly ex- 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


cited woman. “I am not sure I’ll be able to 
answer all their questions, and ” 

“I have left my sister a short distance away, 
with her maid, and I’ll have to return to her 
presently,” interrupted Torry. “The demands 
on him were multiplying rather alarmingly, he 
realized. 

“Run, get her and come right back to me !” en- 
treated the woman, who had allowed herself to be 
led into the Delft Tea Room. “I learned to drive 
that car for exercise, but I didn’t count on — on 
this!” she panted. 

“Don’t worry,” soothed Torry. “Your car is 
back where it belongs, and you were very fortu- 
nate to escape injuring yourself and others.” 

“Don’t I know it? Might have been killed — 
land sakes! And they told me little cars were 
as safe as buckboards! Seems to me they are 
buckboards of another class,” she sighed. 

The police officer was standing politely, wait- 
ing for her to calm down, but he now tapped his 
pencil impatiently. Outside the window the cu- 
rious crowd was dwindling away while those in- 
side stood by gasping, panting, exclaiming and 
otherwise indulging in startled astonishment. 
Torry was edging to the door. 

“Your relative?” the officer asked him. 


42 


mnr cAmoLn 


“No, I just happened along,” explained Torry. 

“He’s no relative, but an old friend,” explained 
the little woman, adjusting her bonnet and then 
her eyeglasses. “His folks and mine were neigh- 
bors for years, and his grandfather ” 

Torry slipped out. He was anxious about 
Beth, and could not delay away from her longer. 
He found her smiling happily, assured that the 
runaway car had done no damage. 

“But the little lady driving the machine is 
some old friend of ours,” he explained, hastily 
taking the chair from Selma. “I must go back 
to see her out of her predicament. I couldn’t 
wait to hear the particulars, but she knew us all, 
and mentioned gran’dad.” 

“Really 1” exclaimed Beth. “Isn’t that splen- 
did; to meet a friend, first thing!” 

Her brother did not spoil the illusion with any 
mention of the two cousins he had met, “first 
thing,” who seemed anything but friendly. In- 
stead he said: “The place seems a nice little 
lunch room, and if the excitement is over, sup- 
pose we all take a cup of tea to be sociable with 
the lady?” 

“Lovely ! I would enj oy something,” admitted 
Beth, “and if we find just what we want I won’t 
have to go to the hotel dining room just this once. 


m OLD NEW. ENGLAND 


43 


Although,” she hurried to declare — “I am not go- 
ing to have meals sent up, you know, brother. I 
am going to table every single time after this 
first day.” 

“Of course you are ! That’s half the fun 1 But 
I’ll just step inside, and make sure it’s worth 
while your coming in before I disturb you,” pro- 
posed the devoted boy. “See, everyone is gone. 
There’s the car, and I see its driver within.” 

Fortunately these breaks, or delays, were not 
so irksome to the visitors as they appear in the 
telling. To take a helpless young lady through 
a city is always a difficult task, unless the care- 
takers are willing to put her into the hands of 
strangers. Then the wheel chair is shipped from 
one stop to the next by a baggage expressman, 
while the invalid is carried about in taxi or bus. 
This method really affords expediency, but it also 
entails that hardship of emphasizing the invalid’s 
helplessness, and Torry Brandon was determined 
to avoid as much of that unhappy reality as a 
brave young heart, and a healthy young phy- 
sique, could overcome. He would walk beside 
Beth or carry her. This was to be the practical 
slogan of their venturesome vacation. 

“Fine!” he exclaimed, returning. “Just the 
place. Come along,” and, assigning Zippy and 


44 


PATSY CARROLE 


the wheel chair to Selma, he picked the invalid up 
in his arms and quite gracefully carried her into 
the tea room. Beth knew how to rest in those 
willing arms, and her own hand just twined over 
his shoulder, as she seemed to sit lightly on the 
human chair, without a sign of awkwardness or 
of discomfort, made her a pretty, if pathetic, pic- 
ture. 

“There you are,” Torry announced, and Beth 
now looked about her from the cretonne easy 
chair pulled up in front of an attractive fireplace. 

The driver of the frisky car was standing by, 
still rather breathless. It was apparent she had 
not expected to see this girl helpless, but, in the 
twinkling of an eye, she recovered her self-pos- 
session and was greeting Beth warmly. 

“You darling girl !” she exclaimed. “And how 
sweet you look!” Her embrace was no mockery, 
she had clasped Beth in her arms. “There,” 
standing off, “you have grown just like your 
piother. Same brown eyes, and that glossy 
hair ” 

“You are Miss Abbie, aren’t you?” asked Beth 
with a warm smile. 

“Yes, and your big brother didn’t know me. 
Abbie Truesdell, that’s just who I am. Young 
lady,” to one in the gray Priscilla, “fetch tea and 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


45 


toast. Will you have toast, child? And to think 
I should not have met you two children in this 
big strange city if that little pony cart hadn’t 
reared! Compensation in everything; isn’t 
there?” she asked, regardless of sequence, or the 
lack of it. 

“Don’t you remember Miss Abbie, Torry?” 
asked Beth. “You always wanted to pick her 
apples before they were ripe.” 

“Oh, yes, indeed I do,” responded Torry. “I 
also remember the fine time we had at your lawn 
party — the one she gave for our Sunday School 
class, and someone, it was not I, stole the balloons 
and set them off prematurely.” 

“Yes, and one went right in old Poky Oldham’s 
window, and he grunted worse than ever about 
it,” recalled Miss Abbie. “I’ll forgive you, young 
man, for forgetting nie now, for — this — this is a 
regular up to date Boston Tea Party.” The last 
sentence was complimentary to a daintily set table 
which Priscilla had just finished preparing for 
the visitors. 

It was over the tea cups that Miss Abbie 
chatted her interesting bits of news. 

“No, I haven’t been out to the old place since 
last spring,” she answered Beth. “But I saw’ 
then how things were going.” 


^6 


PATSY, CARROLL 


“But what do you suppose has set folks against 
the place ?’’ queried Torry, with keen interest in 
the report of his grandfather’s property. 

“Simply no telling,” replied Miss Abhie. “I 
would have suspected those two cousins, Millie 
and Bell, but it seems they are working here in 
Boston, so it can’t be any trick of theirs,” she 
argued. 

“But what happens? What are people so 
afraid of out there ?” pressed Beth. 

“You know how things go in the country,” 
reasoned the little lady. “I suppose there isn’t a 
mite of truth in any one, single rumor, but I often 
think the witch-craft days have left their influ- 
ence in some parts of our state. And you know, 
or you must have heard, it was in that territory 
that a lot of wicked persecution took place.” 

“Yes, Grandie had heaps of old papers and 
records. But surely no one thinks anything about 
that nonsense now,” said Beth, indignantly. 

“Not so as they’ll admit it, but it has an influ- 
ence,” persisted the lady in the ill-fitting auto 
coat. “All I ever heard was that no one could 
live in the house ’count of the disturbances, and 
I was in the real estate office one day when Hiram 
Todd said if he didn’t rent or sell the place soon, 
he would begin to believe the stories were true. 


IN OLD NEW. ENGLAND 


47 


Now, he didn’t go into details,” she hurried to 
explain, as both her listeners smiled incredu- 
lously. “But Hiram is quick-tempered and 
testy, and spoiled, you know. He’s done so much 
big business lately, with city folks moving in and 
paying all sorts of foolish prices for anything 
with a roof on it — and lots of them couldn’t hon- 
estly be called roofs— well, when an agent can’t 
sell a lovely, old place like that, of course he must 
share any wild suspicions. You were right, Tor- 
rington, to come direct down and look things 
over. And now, if you are finished, we’ll all just 
go up to my little place. Tut, tut!” as Beth 
tried to object. “You are all coming right along 
with me. Doggie, too. I know him! 

“Saw you gran’dad educatin’ him just before 
he was called. And I have no objection to a well- 
behaved little dog. Torrington, just take your 
sister out to that runaway car, as long as you 
are sure you can manage it. Then Beth and I’ll 
wait, while you get an expressman for the wheel 
chair. lYou can’t imagine what a blessing you 
will he to me. You can guess perhaps how des- 
perate I was when I invested in that car.” And 
the only possible weakness in the arrangements 
might have been the fact that Aunt Martha could 
not know that a motherly woman had promptly 


48 


PATSY CARROLL 


come to the rescue of helpless, but hopeful, Beth 
Brandon and her loyal brother Torry. 

Even Zippy rode away in the capricious little 
roadster, for Selma sat with Torry, while Beth 
and Miss Abbie sighed with relief on the back 
seat, and Zippy cuddled in the robe at their feet. 

Truly the law of compensation was operating 
with scientific accuracy just then. 


CHAPTER V 


NOT AS PER SCHEDULE 

T he following morning dawned warm 
and sultry over the heads of the Way- 
farers, and Aunt Martha felt obliged to 
suggest a hasty retreat out of the city into the 
more open country places. 

“Even for a little sightseeing,” she urged, “we 
would not be wise to stay in Boston in this spell 
of heavy weather. Just see, the fog is fairly 
steaming everywhere!” 

“Yes, Auntie,” agreed Patsy amicably, “we 
really must keep moving until we reach a verdant 
valley, or rocky cliffs somewhere. Our plans 
were to rest one day in Boston. Don’t you think 
you could stand just one day? Then we shall 
journey on to Plymouth.” 

“Well,” reluctantly, “I suppose one day will 
not be intolerable, but, my dear, I do feel this 
oppressive weather, and I have not quite your 


50 


PATSY CARROLL 


youthful energy. Still, if you girls can put in 
the day safely, looking about without me, I shall 
be content just to stay in and try to keep cool.” 

“Ducky Darling!” Patsy answered with a little 
hug, not too violent for it was indeed a stuffy 
day. “We do want to run into a few shops, and 
then I would like to point out a couple of land- 
marks to the girls. But you know. Auntie, we 
don’t want you to sizzle up, just to give us the 
chance for sightseeing.” 

“Oh, it is not so warm, really, just heavy and 
humid. Tell me exactly where you propose go- 
ing, and be sure to telephone me by twelve o’clock. 
Then I will know you are safe,” concluded the 
little woman, ever apprehensive of the possible 
danger in strange cities. 

“Or we might scatter a campfire trail of paper 
snips,” teased Patsy. 

“Why not take a hatchet — and nick the posts 
along the way?” offered Beatrice. The sugges- 
tion was made to offset Patsy’s, and not to dis- 
count the caution expressed by Aunt Martha. 

“No need of either, if Mab just waves her 
handkerchief now and then, and allows that per- 
fume to make a trail,” said Bee, cynically. “It 
would be a lot better as a trail than used as ” 

“Now, Bee-ee,” interrupted Mab, “you know 


'IN, om NEW ENGLAND 


SI 


I took that from nice little Winnie Leighton as 
a good-bye gift. It is a bit aggressive, I’ll admit, 
but it can afford to be. Came all the way from 
London!” 

“I prefer the American vintage,” insisted Bee, 
“although it was thoughtful of Winnie to get 
rid of the bottle that way. Wouldn’t wonder but 
the same thing happened to her when she left 
England. Why didn’t you keep the chain mov- 
ing by giving it to Beth Brandon for Zippy’s 
bath?” 

“Zippy’s ‘bawth,’ if you please. Bee,” corrected 
Patsy. “We can at least learn a few Boston 
words while we’re here, and ‘bawth’ is like a vocal 
exercise.” 

This was the cue for trying on the broad “A” 
in many of its most conspicuous Boston selec- 
tions, until terminology must have trembled for 
its honors in the mouths of the reckless Way- 
farers. It is, perhaps, easy enough to say 
“bawth,” but who, not a native, can give the 
simple little word “car” that quaint sound, neither 
Irish nor Scotch, but just New English? 

The girls were ready for their city jaunt, and 
whatever “trail” was actually decided upon, none 
was apparent as they left the hotel in a shower 
of dutiful promises to Aunt Martha. 




P2TSY CARROLL 


“Because I lost Beth’s card,” said Patsy, “I 
am going directly to the hotel she said they would 
stop at. I must find out where the venerable, 
available homestead is. I feel sure we shall want 
to spend our real vacation in some such haunt.” 

“But how could we keep house alone, without 
maids?” queried Mab, timidly. 

“Hast forgotten our brave promise to do some- 
thing worth while this summer? Where, now, is 
the call of the Welfare Special or the Field 
Worker’s Sacrifice? Fie! Fie! Mahsie! As if 
we four girls could not keep house for a few 
weeks in a quaint old homestead! Besides, Beth 
said a reliable gardener gardened there. He may 
have a wife,” deduced Patsy. 

“All right, Pat. I’ll try anything once. But 
I cannot help feeling you are heading us straight 
for trouble — adventure, I mean. Just see how we 
met the Brandons, and how at once we all be- 
came friends ! Isn’t it rather unusual for us, the 
real, old original and only Wayfarers, to call a 
girl ‘Beth’ at the first meeting?” 

“Here we are at our first big dry goods store,” 
interrupted Patsy, as they paused before one of 
the large merchantile houses on Washington 
Street. “Let us run in here and have a few min- 
utes’ talk in the rest room. I have not wanted 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


53 


to arouse Aunt Martha’s suspicions by taking any 
chances before her.” 

“Now, I knew it!” exclaimed Nell gleefully. 
“You have got a mystery already seething, Pat. 
I have been wondering how you managed to keep 
so respectfully tame for these first days out. But 
I know I am going to love it, Pat,” with a sur- 
reptitious squeeze of Patsy’s arm. “I don’t think 
we have ever met nicer folks than Torry ” 

“Now, now,” cautioned her sister Mab. “I 
don’t want to make any such report as that of 
your interest in a perfectly fascinating young 
man. Sis, as I am responsible for all news to the 
home circle this week. Still — and she made a 
pretty little mouth — “Torry is a very nice boy.” 

They made their way through the big depart- 
ment store, glancing with interest at the displays 
so like, yet so unlike, those of New York; for 
while the fashion of both cities are fundamentally 
alike, their choice is always individually different. 

Bee and Mab went to the notion counter, while 
Patsy and Nell continued through the main aisle 
boimd for the elevator. The desultory patronage 
of that hour evinced something of the sea coast’s 
influence, in white serge suits, the carefree 
Panama hats, or gauzy voiles with jade green 
jaunty toques and flaring, floating veils — ^in this 


54 


PATSY CARROLL 


the attire worn through Boston’s streets differed 
materially from such costumes as might be seen 
under similar conditions in New York City. Also 
the patrons seemed to have time to look around, 
and many were admittedly doing nothing else. 

As Patsy and Nell entered the elevator, their 
attention was drawn to two young girls in the 
uniform of the store, who seemed so deeply inter- 
ested in their own conversation as to be oblivious 
to those crowded about them in the car. 

“I never was so surprised ” one exclaimed. 

“Would you ever believe he would bring her 
to Boston?” 

“I suppose we should have gone back to see 
her ” 

“Well, I guess not,” from the sharp-faced, 
darker girl. Both were dark, and unquestionably 
sisters. 

“And he has to carry her in and out to reach 
the chair ” 

Patsy glanced at the girl who said this, and 
only the sudden stopping of the elevator pre- 
vented a more direct challenge. 

“Just wait ” sneered the younger girl, en- 

tirely unconscious of Patsy’s glaring eyes. “If 
they think they can come down here, and settle 
things their own way, they’ve got another guess 


IN OLD NEIF ENGLAND 


55 


coming.” They stepped out of the car. “I’ll see 
you at lunch,” said the taller girl. 

“Wait!” called the sister. “Did Torry ” 

Again the two clerks put their heads together 
in a moment stolen from their business, and which 
was obtained in spite of watchful supervisors. 
Then they were lost in the shopping crowds, and 
Patsy turned to meet Bee and Mab, just land- 
ing from the escalator. 

“Did you hear those girls?” asked Nellie in- 
dignantly. 

“Certainly I did. And did you hear them say 
‘Torry’?” 

“Yes, come over to the rest room,” piloted 
Nell. “I am sure they are at least a faction of 
the dissenting relations.” 

Briefly the fragmentary conversation over- 
heard in the elevator was recounted to Bee and 
Mab, and all sorts of interesting conjectures were 
offered. 

“If we had just dared to enter in some con- 
versation and then ask if they happened to know 
where Beth Brandon’s grandfather’s farm was 
situated,” soliloquized Mab. 

“Oh, how perfectly silly!” exclaimed Nell. 
“As if we could put that sort of question to two 
absolute strangers!” 


^ 5 ^ 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Oh, of course,” faltered Mab, flushing a little. 
“But it was just a possible straw, and ” 

“Every little straw helps, Mabsie,” said Patsy 
considerately. “As a matter of fact, those girls 
seem to know the very thing we are so anxious 
to find out, yet we cannot go right up to them 
with the simple question. They looked rather — 
well, antagonistic, don’t you think so?” 

“I should say they are antagonistic!” declared 
Bee. “That one with the sharp nose seemed 
capable of stabbing one with her disposition, bare- 
fisted.” 

“Rather a scrambled simile, Bee,” said Nell. 
“But I guess we comprehend. I would nickname 
that one the Wasp. I fancy she’s sharp enough 
and not very particular about the stinging act.” 

“Look!” exclaimed Patsy. “There goes the 
very lady ! Come on aver to her counter and buy 
something.” 

“She may be in the quilts and comfortables,” 
scoffed Nell. 

“No matter, even at that we could price a quilt 
— a New England creation for our hope chest,” 
insisted Patsy. “Come along, quick,” and she 
dragged Bee on one side and Mab on the other, 
while Nell tagged on the end. 

“The Wasp” had already taken her place be- 


m. OLD NEW. ENOrAND 


57 


hind a counter, and when the Wayfarers faced 
it — behold — ^the display, neatly uncovered in feet 
and ankles, was of men’s hose! 

Mabel, the baby of the group, tittered out- 
right, but Patsy was courageous. She just threw 
up her pretty bronze head with its blue brimmed 
sailor, and attacked that counter. 

‘‘Pat!” begged Bee. “See what you are going 
to buy!” 

“I know,” calmly replied Pat. “Dad needs 
size — let me see, size — I know he wears a seven- 
teen collar.” But even the unconquerable Pat 
was stalled on the size of socks. 

“Is he a — big man?” ventured the clerk, none 
other than the girl with the pointed nose. 

“Oh, yes, daddy is as big as — ^let me see,” and 
Patsy dared glance about for a man of dad’s 
size! A. floor- walker approaching seemed to 
meet the requirements, and she leaned over the 
counter to point him out, in a very cautious 
whisper. 

“His size,” repeated the girl recklessly. “Oh, 
Mr. Glennon ” 

“Wait a minute,” implored Patsy, now fright- 
ened at the possible danger of this silly clerk ask- 
ing the man the size of his foot. “I think I had 
better wait, and get the eorrect measurements,’* 


P2TSY CARROLL 


£ 

and before the clerk could offer objection, the 
Wayfarers fled. 

They were choked with laughter, and Patsy’s 
cheeks threatened to ignite from sheer, flaming 
confusion. 

“My word!” she gasped, pausing in the shelter 
of a floral arch erected to display the perfume 
goods. “Wasn’t that a narrow escape?” 

“Worse than that,” insisted Bee, “it was a 
mere hairbreadth escape. If I had not been 
standing directly in front of her, that clerk would 
have made the handsome floor-walker hear her 
request.” 

“She may only have wanted him to sign her 
book,” suggested Mab. “How do we know she 
was going to inquire for his manly foot meas- 
ure?” 

“Let us hope you are right, Mab dear, but I 
shall not soon forget the fright. Never again 
shall I approach the gent’s furnishing for my 
hope-chest accessories.” And the very nonsense 
of it set the entire quartette into a perfect gale 
of laughter. 

Suddenly the gong sounded twelve o’clock. 

“Telephone Aunt Martha!” exclaimed Mab. 
“Where might we find a booth?” 

“There, near the elevator,” replied Bee. “But 


m OLD NEW ENGLAND 


59 


what can we say? We haven’t looked for the 
Brandons yet.” 

“We still have an hour before lunch at our 
hotel,” replied Patsy, “We may be able to make 
the inquiry as we return. I’ll phone first,” and 
she stepped into the booth with her coin in 
her hand ready to drop it into the mechanical 
slot. 

The other girls found seats about, and waited. 
Patsy had not closed the door of the booth, and 
she spoke to them while awaiting her call. A few 
seconds passed and the reply came that room 
number 24 had not answered. 

“But I’m sure the party is waiting for this 
call,” insisted Patsy. “Please try again.” 

After five full minutes’ waiting, however, the 
Wayfarers were obliged to give the call up, and, 
very much perplexed, they started off to their 
own hotel. 

“Aunt Martha must be in,” reasoned Patsy. 
‘‘But we have to make sure she is all right. Let’s 
hurry along,” she prompted nervously. 

“I wish I had stayed with her,” spoke Nell 
regretfully. 

“Oh, she is surely there, perhaps just stepped 
out of her room,” assured Bee. “Aunt Martha 
wanted to rest alone this morning. She must 


6o 


PATSY CARROLL 


tire occasionally of our prattle, but she is always 
so sweet about it.” 

Patsy was silent. Even the possibility of a 
wire crossed, or a mixup in the call, did not en- 
tirely reassure her, and they quickened their steps 
toward the Fremont Hotel, to make sure of the 
safety of little Aunt Martha. 

“Surely nothing could have happened,” Nellie 
murmured. 

“No, I really don’t feel anything has,” Patsy 
assured her, “but ” 

“There are endless reasons why she may not 
have been there just then,” reasoned Mab. 

“So we will hurry along and find out which 
reason is responsible,” concluded Beatrice. 


CHAPTER VI 


missing: one little aunt martha 

<‘■1^ TOT here!’’ almost gasped Patsy, en- 
I tering the ominously-quiet room, 

^ where Aunt Martha’s belongings 
spoke mutely of her mysterious absence. 

“She may he in the lounge,” suggested Nell, 
visibly agitated, hut nevertheless clear in judg- 
ment. 

Patsy picked up the wall telephone, and in- 
quiry at the office brought out the fact that “Miss 
Carroll had gone out and her key was now on 
the rack.” The girls had entered with their own 
key, and Aunt Martha’s room was connected 
with theirs. 

“Gone out?” repeated Patsy, vaguely turning 
from the telephone. “Where can she have gone 
to?” 

“I heard her speak of those peculiarly pretty 
flowers in the windows, as we came in,” recalled 
61 


S2 


TATSY CARROLL 


Mab. “Perhaps she just walked out to get some 
of those.” 

“But we could have brought her anything of 
that kind, and the day is so stuffy.” Patsy 
wrinkled her brow and showed deep anxiety. It 
was reasonable enough, perhaps, for Aunt 
Martha to stroll out, but she would surely be 
back for lunch, and the clock now indicated fif- 
teen minutes to one o’clock. 

“Shall we walk out and look around?” asked 
Bee. They suddenly all seemed so woefully help- 
less. That anything might happen to dear, sweet 
little Aunt Martha was too horrible to even con- 
jecture. 

Patsy sighed and brushed her hand over flick- 
ering eyelids. 

“We will have to wait for a few minutes, I 
suppose,” she decided. “There is no use in get- 
ting panic-stricken. After all, it is broad day- 
light, and Auntie is always so careful and 
capable.” 

But, somehow, this very statement echoed its 
own emptiness like shouting into a rain barrel. 

Patsy jumped up, clapped her hat on again 
and decided to go downstairs to look about the 
exchange. Some caller might be detaining Aunt 
Martha there. 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


63 


“Suppose Nell and I stay here?” proposed 
Mab. “Then, when she comes, she won’t have 
to worry about us/* 

“All right,” agreed Patsy, “But hadn’t you 
better go down for lunch?” 

“No, indeed,” objected Nell. “I couldn’t eat 
a morsel until we find Aunt Martha.” 

“Nor I,” added Mab. “Don’t worry about 
our lunch, Pat; that is of small conse- 
quence.” 

How quickly they were seized with gloom and 
alarm! And, after all, as Patsy said, there 
seemed so little real cause. But it was about 
Aunt Martha, the caretaker, the beloved coun- 
sellor and the dear, wise, thoughtful companion. 
And that made a difference. 

Minutes passed, then a half hour and finally 
an hour! It was two o’clock and no word nor 
trace had come to light. Patsy and Bee had been 
phoning in, looking first in the nearest possible 
places, the little book store at the corner, the 
drug store and the florist’s in the big basement; 
but no trace of the missing one had been un- 
earthed. Finally, in panic, the girls all came to- 
gether in the hotel exchange, and decided on 
sipping a cup of tea and nibbling a biscuit, for 
they had not taken any lunch. Then Patsy and 


64 PATSY CARROLL 


Bee inquired for the police station, and, with 
warranted perturbation, hurried to the place. 

“No accident reported,” answered the desk 
sergeant, taking the name and hotel address. 
“But why worry in the broad daylight? She may 
just be out seeing the city.” 

“No, she wouldn’t leave us so long. Officer,” 
Patsy insisted. Her voice trembled, and her eyes 
were hazy now. Surely something dreadful must 
have happened! 

“Sorry I can’t help you just now,” said the 
sergeant. “But if you want to enter a search- 
request ” 

“I don’t know,” demurred Patsy. “Of course 
my aunt would feel bady to excite publicity, if 
you think we should wait. But, really, where 
could she go?” 

The big man smiled broadly. Just frightened 
young girls, he was evidently deciding. As he 
held his pen to make an entry, in the big police 
“blotter,” another officer stepped up. 

“What’s the description?” he asked his su- 
perior, respectfully. 

Patsy told how Aunt Martha would be dressed, 
and gave all other enlightening details. 

“I think I can solve your mystery,” the second 
officer said very kindly to Patsy. “At about 


m OLD NEW ENGLAND 


65 


eleven o’clock I saw a woman answering that de- 
scription, exactly. She was toting a lost boy 
home. I noticed her just at Tremont Street, 
when I was pulling my box. The youngster was 
crying ” 

“That must be it!” interrupted Patsy, relief 
echoing in her voice, “Aunt Martha would do 
just that. I knew she would never go off on a 
pleasure jaunt and leave us to worry. But 
wouldn’t she be back now?” 

“She ought to,” assented the officer. 

“Did you take the boy’s address?” asked the 
sergeant. 

“Yes, I jotted it down, luckily.” He took out 
his notebook from an inside coat pocket, and of- 
fered the desk man his brief record. The other 
glanced over it. 

“Rather a poor neighborhood,” the sergeant 
remarked. 

“I told the lady that, but she insisted on taking 
the youngster home. I hailed a taxi for her.” 

“A taxi!” repeated Bee. The relief brought 
with the clue was now slipping back into a new 
anxiety. 

“Yes, I know the driver personally,” vouched 
the officer. 

“Suppose you young ladies just go back to 


66 


PATSY CARROLL 


your hotel, and we’ll send a man to make in- 
quiries,” suggested the officer at the desk. 

“Couldn’t we go? I should feel much better 
to go ” 

The telephone, tingling, interrupted Patsy as 
the sergeant turned to answer it. 

“Oh, all right. Yes, right here. Want to 
speak to her?” he asked. Then: 

“Miss Carroll, your aunt is back safely. She’s 
on the wire.” 

Patsy swung open the brass railed gate, and 
had the ’phone receiver in her hand before the 
sentence was finished. 

“Are you all right. Auntie?” she demanded, 
hurriedly. 

“Yes, we will be right up,” came the next sen- 
tence. 

“No, we didn’t make any police entry — ^just 
inquired ” 

“Of course that was very simple — to take a 
wrong car, with the subway entrances to ele- 
vators. All right, dear. We’ll be right back in 
ten minutes. Not a bit frightened, just a little 
anxious ” 

Patsy turned from the ’phone, with a blush 
for apology. 

“She got lost, of course. The wrong car, and 


m OLD NEW ENGITAND 


67 


such delays! But she says she has had a most 
interesting experience.” 

‘‘She would be sure to have that, from a visit 
in such a section. Glad you are all fixed up, 
however. It isn’t a bad idea to make inquiries 
promptly. If everyone did that we would be 
better able to keep things checked up,” com- 
mented the officer pleasantly. 

“Do we need to leave any details, name or any- 
thing?” asked Patsy, anxious to do her part, even 
in all the hurry to get back to her aunt. 

“No, none whatever,” said the sergeant affably. 
“Glad to have been of service.” 

On wings of joy Patsy and Bee flew back to 
the Fremont. 

Aunt Martha was taking tea from a tray, while 
Mab and Nell fluttered about. 

“My dear children,” exclaimed the little lady, 
“I am so very sorry I You must have been dread- 
fully alarmed, to go to the police station.” 

“No, indeed. We love to go to police sta- 
tions, don’t we. Bee? But where’s your boy? I 
thought you had adopted him?” demanded Patsy. 

“Oh, that boy I” sighed Aunt Martha. “I don’t 
wonder he wandered away. But, girls, let us get 
out of these things and freshen up. I feel 
like ” 


68 


P'ATSY CARROLD 


‘‘We know,” interrupted Patsy. “Our nice 
officers said your jaunt would be interesting, if a 
bit unusual. Slums, Auntie! How did you like 
Social Service?” 

“I do believe I would not have wandered off 
away out in those dreadful places if your Social 
Service chatter had not buzzed in my ears,” said 
Aunt Martha, hastily divesting herself of the gar- 
ments she had sullied in the slums. “I shall have 
to take a long time to tell you all about it, and 
it is very interesting,” she admitted frankly. 

Tea and a light luncheon had been brought up 
to the girls, and their relief from the anxiety 
caused by Miss Carroll’s unaccountable disap- 
pearance was marked by a ceaseless flow of ques- 
tions, which Aunt Martha vainly tried to satisfy 
with intelligent answers. 

Finally Patsy attempted to sum up the entire 
episode. 

“First, Auntie,” she checked off, “you felt like 
taking a trolley ride ” 

“Well, not exactly that, dear, but I did feel 
like taking a little stroll, since I realized we were 
only going to stay in this wonderful old city a 
single day.” 

“But we will stay longer if you wish. Auntie,” 
Patsy hastened to offer. “We have a schedule 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


69 


of absolute elasticity, and we go or come just as 
we please. The only stipulation being — and we 
have all agreed upon it — that we shall retire to 
a suitable retreat for a complete rest for the last 
month. This present month is to be a free-for- 
all tournament in adventure.” 

“Still, I feel we should go to Plymouth,” in- 
sisted Aunt Martha. “This is the summer of the 
Tercentenary, and you students must glean a 
store of historical lore from the celebration at 
Provincetown, on the tip of Cape Cod.” 

“Very well, dear, we don our caps and bibbers 
on the morrow. But do not let us wander, now, 
from your own adventure. You went for a 
walk ” 

“And I was so interested in the shop windows, 
I must confess, that I just kept going farther 
and farther, until in front of a florist’s I found 
the little boy crying — oh, so bitterly!” Aunt 
Martha paused. The boy’s plight still affected 
her visibly. 

“However did he get so far from his home?” 
asked Bee. 

“The child was like a picture,” replied Aunt 
Martha. “He was ragged and barefoot, and had 
a scrap of a cap on such a shock of brown 
curls ” 


70 


^PATSY CARROLL 


“Auntie Mattie Carroll!” exclaimed Patsy. 
“And you let a duck of a boy like that escape us! 
Why, just think what a model we might have 
made of him !” 

“You may do so yet,” spoke Aunt Martha. 
“If you girls could have had a glimpse of the 
place that child lives in! Mercy me! I shudder 
to think of it. And his poor, worn, suffering 
little mother !” Aunt Martha brushed her glasses, 
but that act did not take the haze from her sym- 
pathetic voice. 

“And you gave him a ride in a cab. Aunt 
Mattie?” said Nell. “Really, girls, I’m envious. 
Just think what we missed!” 

“My dears, that little fellow had tramped in 
all the way to the city with his pink pond lilies, 
and it was the flowers that first attracted my at- 
tention. When I came up to him he was looking 
so forlornly into the flower shop, and almost hug- 
ging his own flowers to death. I asked him what 
was the matter, and all the poor child could do 
was to sob and cry. I offered to buy all his 
lilies.” 

“Now, Auntie, that is a violation of the Social 
Service code,” Patsy interrupted. “You should 
have investigated his story. Tears and pond 
lilies are a pretty powerful argument, I’ll admit. 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


71 


Auntie mine, but when you put them on the back- 
ground of a cherub-child — ^well, I don’t wonder 
you capitulated.” 

“And when the police officer came up you 
scorned his aid,” teased Bee. “He told us he 
offered to take the boy home, didn’t he, Pat?” 

“As if I would allow an officer to put his hand 
on that helpless child!” disdained the little lady, 
now fanning herself excitedly in the big leather 
chair. 

“Bravo!” cried Nell, jumping up to press her 
lips on the lady’s cheek. “Spoken like a true 
member of the Wayfarers! And you spurned 
the iron hand of the law from polluting those in- 
nocent — shoulders,” she finished, making an aw- 
ful fluke of her attempt at eloquence. Nell was 
so pretty, and such a baby, that everything she 
said seemed “adorable,” as Patsy usually termed 
the efforts. 

“But the house. Aunt Martha? The poor 
woman’s home? Do tell us about all that,” 
begged Mab. 

“It is such a long story,” sighed Miss Carroll, 
“and some of the details are rather depressing. 
Suppose we go out to the porch, off your room, 
Patsy, and I’ll try to tell you some of it there? 
The afternoon is almost gone, and we won’t have 


72 


PATSY CARROLL 


another in Boston until we come back. I am so 
sorry I have upset your day.” 

But how could she know then, that the rescue 
of the little boy with the pink pond lilies would 
form an important link in the chain of their sum- 
mer’s adventure? 

“Now for a real, live story,” announced Patsy. 

“I’m so glad there’s a boy in it,” whispered 
Nell. 

“I hope. Auntie, you are not too worn-out with 
all this,” said Bee, leading the way to the porch. 

“Oh, no, dear ! I think the excitement is rather 
exhilarating,” Aunt Martha replied, as they all 
settled down to listen to her story. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE DOMINANT PATSY 

I ^HE woman is a widow, who showed by 
I her really skillful management of that 
humble home, that she must have been 
a capable houseworker,” recounted Aunt Mar- 
tha. ‘‘Such ingenious arrangements! Can you 
imagine a hammock swung above a little cot? 
The mother sleeps in the lower berth and my 
boy — ^Rolly — sleeps in the hammock. And the 
affection between that mother and son! As I 
waited to make sure that he was really in his own 
home, I felt like an intruder,” and the dignified 
little woman fidgeted to cover the embarassing 
memory. 

“Roily!” repeated Mab. “I suppose his name 
is Rowland.” 

“Yes, I asked and that was the very answer 
given, Mabel. I did not just recall what name 
Roily was taken from,” said Miss Carroll. “It 
T3 


74 


PATSY CARROLL 


seems the mother was housekeeper, and her hus- 
band a man of all work for some old family out 
in the country. When the last of the family 
died, an old man, I believe, these servants ex- 
perienced a very great disappointment. The will 
left nothing to them, and it had always been sup- 
posed that the delicate man was to be remem- 
bered. The woman insisted it did not mean so 
much to her, as she stoutly claimed the old gentle- 
man had a perfect right to do as he pleased with 
his own property; but the man was seriously af- 
fected by the disappointment, as he had been 
sort of promised a small income, and had his plans 
made to go into business. His wife said the loss 
‘took the heart out of him,’ and he only lived a 
short time after the death of his old friend and 
employer,” concluded Aunt Martha. 

“Another will gone wrong,” quoth Patsy. “Be 
warned, my friends ! I shall leave no tricky docu- 
ment, instead I shall order every lap of land 
turned into true, gold coin, which I may scatter 
regally from my satin-covered couch,” and she 
almost lost her pretty Japanese fan over the edge 
of the little balcony, in a wild attempt to prema- 
turely “scatter things royally.” 

“I have the woman’s name and the address of 
the place,” went on Aunt Martha, importance 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


75 


shaping her sentences. “And I intend to do 
something worth while for that brave little per- 
son.” 

“And for Roily of the Pink Pond Lilies,” 
added Patsy, with a tinge of the melodramatic. 
“Can we get around there again to-day?” 

“Oh, my dear child, no!” promptly objected 
the aunt. “Isn’t one loosing a day sufficient even 
for the Wayfarers?” 

“But we don’t hold that against you. Auntie 
dear. And just consider what you have done in 
Social Service,” complimented Patsy. “But, 
girls!” she exclaimed, jumping up suddenly, “we 
have not yet inquired about the Brandons’ hotel! 
Come on down this minute, somebody, while I 
telephone.” 

Mabel ran along to the lobby with Patsy, where 
a convenient booth usually provided more prompt 
service than did the phones in the private rooms. 

The hotel she called answered, but Patsy was 
Very much disappointed in the reply. 

Rooms had been reserved for Mr. Brandon 
land his sister, the clerk stated, but the reserva- 
tions were cancelled yesterday afternoon. 

Patsy dropped the receiver with undisguised 
disappointment. 

“Now, we have lost them, outright!” she ex- 


76 


PATSY CARROLL 


claimed. “And we all hoped to keep up that 
interesting acquaintance She was annoyed and 
plainly grieved to have so soon lost trace of the 
newly made friends. But how could the Way- 
farers know that gentle, motherly Miss Abbie 
Truesdell had taken the brother and sister un- 
der her loving wing, and so changed all the first 
made plans for hotel accommodations? 

“Do you suppose Beth may have fallen ill, 
and perhaps had to be taken to a hospital?” ven- 
tured Mabel. 

“Oh, no, Mab. I wouldn’t ever imagine any- 
thing as morbid as that. More likely the brother 
has hurried her off from the warm city. Perhaps 
they have even gone to the lovely old homestead 
which we have also lost trace of in this un- 
precedented mixup. I do believe it is better, after 
all, to have a real schedule, and stick to it,” ad- 
mitted Patsy, her pretty face spoiling itself with 
a horrid scowl. 

When Aunt Martha and the other girls were 
told of the second lost address, the little lady 
said: “Now, my dears, this looks to me like an 
intended rebuke to our sudden gushing over the 
strangers. I believe we shall have to eliminate 
them from our summer’s programme. Al- 
though- 


IN OLD NEJ^ ENGLAND 


77 


“Auntie Mattie Carroll!” exclaimed Patsy, 
jumping to the figure in the wicker chair and 
pretending to stop, with her slender hand, the 
words framing on the lady’s lips. “You know 
perfectly well, you don’t think anything of the 
kind! How could you?” 

The vehemence and excitement under which 
the bronze-haired girl struggled brought upon her 
a very shower of torment. 

“Why, Pat!” exclaimed Bee. “Don’t take it 
so hard!” 

“Paddie, dear, we will get the Boston bellman 
out if you are going to suffer that way from the 
loss,” teased Nell. 

“All the same,” soothed Mab, throwing her 
arms around the perturbed Patsy, “it is a shame! 
And just when we had the stage all set, with 
Torry and Beth as stars in our summer thriller. 
Don’t you mind, Pat, I am sure they’ll come 
back. Wasn’t Beth to write us?” 

“Yes, of course, but ” Patsy was kindling 

with the flame of actual irritation. Not that her 
temper was ever really ungovernable, in spite of 
the “red-headed” alibi, but to lose all trace of her 
friends, and the prospect of the lovely big camp- 
ing homestead ! Wasn’t that aggravating, to put 
it politely? 


78 


PATSY CARROLL 


Aunt Martha was obviously distressed. Her 
indifferent remark was intended to pacify, not 
to excite, her favorite niece. But Patsy was so 
soundly loyal, that the very suspicion of deserting 
a friend aroused her indignation. 

‘‘I am sure, dear,” soothed the little lady, “the 
young girl will write you. Don’t forget her good 
brother has undertaken to provide her with some 
very special and skillful surgical attention. That 
may account for the change of plans.” 

“Yes, that’s so. Auntie,” conceded Patsy, re- 
turning to her normal happy mood. “Do you 
suppose we might make inquiries at the hos- 
pital?” 

“No, I’m afraid not, dear. You see, it was 
not exactly hospital treatment she was to under- 
go, but the advice and care of some noted spe- 
cialist. I believe I may recall his name, but not 
to-day. My head is rather upset ” 

“No wonder, you poor dear,” interrupted the 
leader of the Wayfarers, “and, after all your ex- 
citing adventure, to think that thoughtless, heart- 
less, reckless Pat should be putting you through 
the third degree! I’m ashamed of a girl named 
Pat,” and she bumped her head against the porch 
post. “Come along, kid-doodles. It’s time to 
doll up. Who knows but some of our loves of 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


79 


other years may be stopping at this very hotel?” 
and Patsy led the way indoors, by lending a very 
sympathetic arm to the frail little Aunt Martha. 

“Do lie down and rest a while. Auntie,” coun- 
selled Mab. “We make such a fuss and flutter 
in dressing, I am sure we must get on your tired 
nerves.” 

“Now, young ladies,” protested she who ex- 
cited the stream of attention, “if I were not young 
enough and healthy enough and reasonable 
enough to enjoy your little whimsical nonsense, 
I would have made a very great mistake by com- 
ing along to put a check on your exuberance. 
There, Pat; am I not improving in my methods? 
Doesn’t that sound a little bit Patsyesque?” 

“Carrollesque, rather,” answered the beaming 
girl, altogether happy again in spite of the wicked 
elf of disappointment, snatching from the sum- 
mer day one little item of cherished expec- 
tancy. 

But a kinder fairy heard the plaint, and bided 
a chance to mollify. 

“Isn’t it too mean about the Brandon’s?” per- 
sisted Nell, while slipping into her prettiest or- 
chid organdie. 

“Yes, isn’t it? I had a wonderful plot all 
woven around them for our summer thriller,” 


8o 


PATSY CARROLL 


admitted Bee, ‘‘but it looks now as if we shall 
have to depend upon Aunt Martha’s Roily.” 

“And the pink pond lilies,” added Patsy. “I 
must say little Roily makes an attractive setting, 
but I am not giving up Beth and Torry, for all 
that.” 

“We know perfectly well you are not,” spoke 
Mab decisively. “Depend upon Pat to catch 
the wily, squirming fish of adventure, as it wiggles 
and waggles away.” 

“Ho! Ho! Mab!” shouted Patsy. “Every 
time you try a simile you skid. Or was this one a 
fish chowder? But I know exactly what you 
mean, Mabsie, and I thank you for ‘them kind 
words.’ You may hope to see me make good on 
the prediction, or might I say predilection? It 
seems we did favor our first-found friends, and 
we also spotted a real wild time taming the old 
homestead. Oh, me!” and she sighed dramatic- 
ally. “Where is my wandering boy to-night?” 
and she tra-la-laa-ed shamelessly, to carry the 
tune to a retarding finish. 

But that evening at the hotel no incident oc- 
curred to justify Patsy’s hope in some actual, 
interesting coincidence. No one appeared in the 
dining room, in whom the Wayfarers might have 
professed personal interest, and later in the ex- 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


8i 


change, in the lounge and in the big old-fashioned 
parlors, the combination of passe toilette and an- 
tiquated musical talent, that did things to the 
poor, helpless piano, all combined to convince 
the girls that a summer stay in Boston was en- 
tirely a period of stern necessity. 

“Only the business men look sharp and alive,” 
commented Nell, with dejection fairly oozing 
through her manner and voice, “and I’m glad 
we are leaving for Plymouth in the morning.” 
She brushed out her pretty organdie frock, as if 
its appearance in that unappreciative hotel had 
been entirely useless. 

“What did you expect of a city hotel in sum- 
mer, dear?” asked her sister kindly. “I am sure 
that family with the lovely twin girls looked at 
us as if they liked us, at any rate.” 

“And we looked the same sort of pity at them,” 
pouted the sister. “I just wish I hadn’t opened 
my trunk ! Now I’ll have to get everything back 
again, and I never even wore my lovely new 
pongee once.” 

“Goes to show!” warned Patsy, using her 
newly acquired, if inadequate, idiom. “Goes to 
show! Pongees and organdies are not suitable 
for Social Service work. How about our Wel- 
fare Special? Don’t you all think we should 


82 


PATSY CARROLL 


have chartered it and driven out to Roily’s in it? 
Isn’t it lovely to have to admit that Aunt 
Martha’s little old taxi was so very much more 
effective than our boasted, hut elusive, highly 
equipped Special?” 

“What are you driving at, Pat? I saw you 
making notes of everything Aunt Martha said 
about that little boy and his surroundings. Is 
he going to be our first real case?” asked the 
studious and keen-witted Beatrice. Beatrice was 
the only one of the Wayfarers who had ever 
known some of the real privations of life, and her 
experience, when she helped a widowed mother 
by adding her own earnings, gleaned from prac- 
tical teachings, qualified her now to serve as sort 
of professional member of the little group. Patsy 
Carroll’s own altruism was responsible for the 
place Beatrice held among her appreciative 
friends, and a change in her home conditions did 
not lessen her interest in the problems of those 
less fortunate. 

Beatrice Forbes was a serious student of So- 
cial Service, and she was fast spreading for the 
science a favorable influence among her com- 
panions. 

“I suppose I may as well own up,” spoke 
Patsy, finally, as the few guests dwindled away 


IN OLD NEWj ENGLAND 


83 


from the hotel parlors. “I have a new theory. 
I believe if every case needing help was helped 
by those who discover it, the wholesale charity 
problem would be solved; and I mean to try this 
theory on, by visiting to-morrow morning. Roily 
of the Pink Pond Lilies.” 

‘'‘But Aunt Martha said we wouldn’t have 
time?” objected the restless Nell. 

“No such condition is recognized in my sched- 
ule,” said Patsy, grandly. And the meaningless 
statement was accepted without further parleys. 


CHAPTER VIII 


ROLLY OF THE PINK POND LILIES 


UNT MARTHA finally agreed, as Patsy 



was certain she would; and with the un- 


^ derstanding that the wise and prudent 
Beatrice should accompany the bronze-haired, 
impulsive Patsy, the first real journey into the 
realm of family service was entered upon next 
morning. 

“We must not delay,” cautioned Bee. “The 
train leaves for Plymouth at one-thirty, and to 
make it we must get back at least an hour before 
luncheon.” 

“I could get my things ready in a much shorter 
time. Bee,” replied Patsy, “but I am willing to 
admit they would be just pegged in ad lib. Yours, 
I know, will be folded in brand-new creases, to 
uncrease the old folds.” 

“Poor Mabel seems to resent the lack of good 
times we appear to have fallen upon,” continued 


84 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


85 


Bee, ignoring Patsy’s naive compliment. “But 
the contrast will be all the more enjoyable when 
we actually get under sail. You see, Pat, I am 
already assuming marine parlance. I have al- 
ways heard that Cape Cod folks just eat, drink, 
sleep and express themselves nautically.” 

“Was that what ailed you last night. Bee? I 
recognized a new note in your snore, but was not 
sure it was nautical. Now I know it belonged 
to the fog-horn variety,” joked Patsy. 

“Tease away, Pat; I’m ready for action now. 
I always feel lazy for the first two or three weeks 
after school closes. Better give Bee and Mab 
all the timetables, and the directions for our Ply- 
mouth trip.” 

“You are right. Bee, as you always are. I 
wonder what we would do without your wisdom? 
Yes, we must arrange in advance about baggage, 
and all that. I am sure Mab and Nell will be 
happy to attend to everything that means the 
start of our real vacation. They insist upon one 
hundred per cent fun. Now you and I are con- 
tent with a mere speculator’s interest.” Patsy 
fluttered out to Mabel and Eleanor, turning over 
to them literally the stewardship of their next 
journey. 

“And of course, because we are going, every- 


86 


PATSY CARROLL 


thing looks lovely in Boston,” grumbled the 
rather irresponsible Mabel. “I should like to go 
see the public gardens, the Bunker Hill Monu- 
ment, some of the old historic churches and even 
the sight of the Boston Tea Party would thrill 
me this morning, under that lovely, deep-blue 
sky, with its real lace cloudlet-curtains, and sum- 
mery draperies. I never go into poetry, you 
know, girls, but I got up early, and took a bird’s- 
eye view from our little balcony. I feel, in con- 
sequence, that I owe Boston an apology.” 

‘T accept it for good old Boston,” answered 
Patsy. “But the sights you mention, Mab dear, 
are not all piled up together on the Commons, 
They are scattered all over this big city, and you 
could not possibly do more than see one or two 
special favorites in this short morning.” 

“But I haven’t an idea of seeing them,” cor- 
rected Mab. “Indeed, sis and I are going to 
stay right here, and keep Aunt Martha under 
our eyes every minute you and Bee are away, 
Patsy. We don’t want any more lost children 
to lead our httle Auntie astray. I was really only 
talking about sight-seeing in Boston, because I 
had been so cross, and, well, so grouchy about 
this stop over,” she admitted naively. 

“Oh, I see,” replied Patsy archly. “You sing 


IN OLD NEJV ENGLAND 


87 


the praises of the city you leave behind. All 
right, dear ; we may come back this way in better 
weather, and then see all the sights. Just now 

Bee and I are going ” she whispered and 

gave a funny little click of her heels and a very 
girlish twist of her lithe form, “you know we are 
going on our first Social Service expedition. 
Wish us luck, we need it. Come along. Bee, got 
your notebook and pencil, of course. Good-bye, 
Auntie dear, and don’t worry about us,” she 
called into the next room where Miss Carroll was 
busy packing her bag. “The way out to Han- 
over Street is just as simple as a walk down our 
own lane. The trouble with your trip was, first 
that the taxi man wanted to make money, and 
second, your home route was turned inside out. 
You looked for a subway when you should have 
been satisfied with a surface car. We’re off this 
time. I’ll bring you all some pink pond lilies, if 
you’re real good,” and the adventurous Patsy 
whisked herself out to the elevator with the more 
dignified Beatrice Forbes following as close as 
the whisking process allowed. 

“Bee, darling,” began Patsy, when they were 
seated in the trolley going out Haymarket way. 
“I want to be sure I have the Social Service 
lesson all prepared.” She consulted her little 


88 


PATSY CARROLL 


blue notebook. ‘‘First, — Establish confidential 
relations. That means, of course, I must make 
Holly very confidential?” 

“Not Roily, Pat, but Roily’s mother,” cor- 
rected Beatrice. 

“All right,” with a scratched memorandum. 
“Roily’s mother. Next, — Self-revelation! Not, 
not really! I don’t have to reveal myself!” ex- 
claimed Patsy. 

“No, the client reveals herself. She tells you 
about herself, without you asking her questions.” 

“Oh, I see,” again the fountain pen scratched. 
“And third — Clues — clues — why, there’s no mys- 
tery; is there?” 

“Always, else there would be no problem. 
Clues mean a clue to the solution of the case.” 

“Lovely! Bee, I am going to love this! I 
have always fancied I would make a good de- 
tective.” 

“Well, girlie, a good or efficient Social Service 
worker must be a good detective, and I rather 
agree with you, Pat, you would do well in that 
line. I think the work fascinating.” 

“So do I ; I am just thrilled to the bone at the 
prospects we are facing. But wait a minute. I 
must get this before we change cars. Fourth, — 
Client’s own plans. Client’s,” repeated Patsy, 


IN OLD NEJV ENGLAND 


89 


tapping her lips with the end of her pen. 
“Doesn’t that sound professional?” 

“It is,” declared Bee. “I often wonder why 
the uninformed public seems so opposed to the 
professional Social Service worker. None other 
is ever qualified to touch a sacred charity case. 
No one else can be trusted to care for the needy, 
whether they be in need of advice or relief, yet 
how often we hear folks scoff at the professional 
worker !” 

“Hope I have never been guilty. Bee dear. 
But I never really knew before, what all those 
records meant. And I am not, under any circum- 
stances, to show pad or pencil, you say?” 

“No, better have your interview a failure than 
to frighten the client with anything so formid- 
able as pencil or pad,” replied the student 
Beatrice. 

“Well, I hope I won’t blunder. Just you 
pinch me. Bee, if I am going off the track. I 
am really anxious to do something intelligent, 
but there’s no telling what I might do if I fall 
in love with Roily. Let me see. He’s about ten 
years old; did Auntie say? Well, I might get a 
nice smooth stone and sit down to wait for him 
to grow up! Here’s where we change. Don’t 
let me lose cards this time,” and she tucked away 


90 


PATSY CARROLL 


the memorandum as they changed for Hanover 
Street. 

The place was reached without difSculty, and 
the numbers in the block were soon under the 
searchers’ scrutiny. 

Beatrice, having covered her hundred hours’ 
field work, as required by the system of Social 
Service she was studying, found no terrors in the 
narrow passageways and the uncertain halls that 
formed the only barrier between the great, heart- 
less, wide world, and those few bare rooms so 
many families must accept under the name of 
tenement ; but Patsy was not experienced in any 
sort of slum work, and she now readily al- 
lowed her companion to take the lead in their 
search. 

“However did 'Aunt Martha make her way 
through this?” Patsy asked, for, as usual, the 
presence of the two well-dressed strangers drew 
a crowd of curious children and not a few idle 
women to their heels. 

“Lookin’ for the Duffys, Miss?” asked a very 
red-haired girl, with freckles that looked as if 
they had run while wet, and as if the painter’s 
sign had been disregarded by a pair of active 
little hands. Her complexion was an awful mix- 
up, but the freckles were very real, and as defiant 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


91 


as the two hazel eyes that shone out like danger 
signals under that blazing canopy of red hair. 

“No,” replied Bee, “we’re not looking for the 
Duffys ” 

“Because they’ve moved,” went on the girl. 
“They hadda. Their rooms was taken ” 

“But we are not looking for the Duffys,” in- 
terrupted Patsy. “We are looking for Mrs. 
Sherman.” This girl was too generous with her 
gossip. 

“Oh, yes, Sherman,” repeated the self-ap- 
pointed information committee. “Sherman?” she 
repeated, again glaring at the crowd about her 
in open demand for a clue to Mrs. Sherman’s 
lodging. 

“Aw, she don’t know,” spoke up a boy con- 
temptuously. “Smarty! Thinks she knows every- 
thin’. She don’t know nawthin’ but how to chew 
gum ” 

“You go wan, Jim Burns! If you know so 
much why dontcher tell? Guess I know as many 
folks as you do around here,” and the fiery red- 
head tossed from side to side, in verification of 
this broad statement. 

Beatrice had allowed the children to talk in 
this natural way for Patsy’s benefit. Not that the 
urchins of the slums are unlike the children of 


92 


PATSY CARROLL 


the better classes, in fundamental principles, but 
simply that they do their quarreling in such a 
picturesque way. 

‘‘Tell me honestly. Bee,” said Patsy aside, “is 
my unfortunate head that color?” 

“No,” answered Beatrice frankly, “red hair is 
always individual. It cannot be matched.” 

“Thank goodness!” exclaimed Patsy. “That, 
no doubt, is pretty on Freckles, but I should hate 
to be responsible for it myself. But Beasy, where 
is Mrs. Sherman’s place?” 

“There!” exclaimed Bee.” “I see Holly. Just 
look!” 

The houses were of the old red brick type, 
with stone steps that once might have been hand- 
some and dignified, but now they seemed to em- 
phasize, more pathetically, the poverty hidden be- 
hind the almost tumbling walls. On one of these 
tiers of steps, in front of the second building 
farther down the street, sat a little boy. His 
pink pond lilies, unsold, lay beside him on the 
stone floor and in his arms he held a cat — a pink 
cat! 

“Roily I That is surely Aunt Martha’s Roily !” 
declared Patsy, hurrying along to the child, 
without a thought of her Social Service sched- 
ule. 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


93 


“He’s crying,” said Bee. “Something the 
matter with his kitten, I’m positive.” 

Patsy sprang up two of the four steps. 

“What’s the matter, little boy?” she asked. “Is 
your kitty sick?” 

“No’m, she pinkf' he said sadly, brushing away 
a few straggling tears from his variegated face. 

“But that’s pretty,” ventured Bee. “And it 
doesn’t hurt the kitty.” 

“Yes’m,” said the boy, jabbing at more tears. 

“Then what are you crying for?” asked Patsy, 
despising her own vulgar curiosity. “Why 
shouldn’t a boy cry when his cat has gone pink?” 
she answered herself, secretly. 

“He’s Tippy,” explained the boy, holding up 
an inadequate string of fur with a little black 
tip on the end — this combination composing 
Tippy’s tail. “And now he’s all pink, and can’t 
be Tippy,” his voice trailed off. 

“Are you Holly Sherman?” inquired Bee, 
glancing at her wrist watch apprehensively. 

“Yes’m,” said the boy again, his eyes kindling 
through the obtrusive tears. “Did you want to 
see mother?” 

“Yes, we do, dear,” replied Patsy, following 
the boy, who still hugged the pink cat. The hall 
was cluttered and strewn with that sort of refuse 


94 


PATSY CARROLL 


which tenants always seem to discard by way of 
the public hallway. But Roily dodged in and 
out of the boxes and old stuff with the skill of a 
small boy. Presently he swung open the door 
that led into his own humble quarters. 

“Here’s ladies, Mother!” he announced clearly, 
and the two visitors stood waiting for an answer 
from within. 

A shuffling about betrayed hurried changes, 
and in a moment there appeared before them a 
little, brown-haired woman, neatly dressed and 
wearing the honor badge of good housekeeping, 
a spic and span gingham apron. Her face was 
faded, but she smiled bravely. 

“JMy aunt was here yesterday ” began 

Patsy without much ado. But she was promptly 
interrupted. 

“Oh, yes. The lady who brought Rowland 
home. Do come in. I’m so sorry we always have 

to be upset ” She placed two chairs out for 

her visitors, but both girls stood and tried to 
hurry the interview. 

“We are leaving Boston at noon,” said Patsy, 
“and my aunt was so interested ” 

“The sweet little lady,” again came the inter- . 
ruption. “I am sure I am deeply grateful.” 

‘^She wanted to make sure you were not in 


IN OLD NEJV ENGLAND 


95 


need of anything,” faltered Patsy, feeling like 
a criminal, or a spy. Just then she was positive 
she would never like Social Service. It was too 
impertinent. Her cheeks flushed pink, a tone 
stronger than Roily’s rose-colored cat. 

Beatrice smiled as she came to the rescue. It 
was ever a matter of too much heart and en- 
thusiasm, and too little common sense; the an- 
tithesis of Social Service. 

“Miss Carroll, this young lady’s aunt,” began 
Bee in her best normal school tone, “has become 
so interested in your little hoy that we offered to 
make another call before leaving Boston.” The 
look Bee gave Patsy recalled “self revelation, 
without questions.” 

“It’s just like Providence,” began the woman, 
exactly as per schedule. “I’ve tried to keep 
things going, and Roily’s been such a good boy. 
Roily Sherman, what happened to that kit- 
ten?” 

“He fell in the pond lily tub,” whimpered the 
disconsolate Roily. “Will it come off with soap 
— or ’monia. Mom?” 

“Poor Tippy! We’ll see, dear. Wait ’till I 
finish with the ladies,” and she waved aside the 
small boy with the happy, purring, dyed-in-the- 
pond-lily-bath kitten, the bath being a floral-dye 


96 


PATSY CARROLL 


solution. “As I was saying, Miss, I didn’t like 
to complain, but if I could only get back to the 
country with my boy!” 

“Clues,” Patsy was flashing at Bee. Also 
“client’s own plans.” 

“You see we were used to the country, and the 
fine old gentleman we worked for always prom- 
ised my husband he would not forget him. But 
he did, it seems, and it broke Rol down, and he 
gave in dreadful to the disappointment,” sighed 
Mrs. Sherman. 

“Where did you want to go in the country?” 
asked Patsy. She was getting anxious about 
that one-thirty train with lunch in advance. 

“Oh, any place, I couldn’t say where. But, of 
course, it would seem like home to go out Bery- 
ton way. There are not many big houses out 
there, and I suppose there’s a lot of them to rent 
since the big woolen mill at Thriftville closed 
down,” she finished wistfully. 

“Is it pretty out that way?” pressed Patsy, in 
spite of Bee’s warning glances that time was 
really flying. 

“Pretty?” repeated the woman. “It’s the lov- 
liest spot in Massachusetts! The wild sebatia 
grows about there; the river laps the hills and 
trees! I think the homestead we lived on was 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


97 


just a bit of Paradise/’ and pardonable tears 
mellowed her voice. 

“I’ll tell you,” said Patsy impulsively, “you 
write out there and find out if we could get a 
place to rent for the month of August, and if we 
get one we shall take you and Roily along with 
us. There now, boy, will that make it all right 
for Tippy’s complexion? Do you want to go to 
the country again?” 

. “The pond lilies grow out there,” declared 
Roily, as if that answered for his pleasure at the 
offered prospect. “Can get all you want, an’ 
apples ’n’ everything!” 

“Well, you just be a good boy, and here, Mrs. 
Sherman, is a little advance money, because we 
are surely going some place to live next month, 
and we are just as sure of needing your help.” 
The woman flushed as she took the bills. Beatrice 
bit her lips to check the smile threatening. Who 
could teach Patsy Carroll the ways of Social 
Service ? 

“I’ll write to-day,” declared Mrs. Sherman, 
brightening, “and maybe I can get the old place 
itself. If it isn’t sold or rented, I know the agent 
well, and he would surely be glad to have some- 
one there to care for things. I’m sure the rent 
would be very little, and the place is so quaint 


PATSY CARROLL 


and old-fashioned, and we left it as neatly fur- 
nished as ever/’ She jElicked away a tear. Her 
gratitude was plainly getting the better of her 
self-control, 

‘‘Then we’ll run along. Just write us in care 
of that forwarding address, or, if I get a chance. 
I’ll send you an addressed envelope,” offered 
Patsy, casting Social Service rules further to the 
winds, and completely ignoring Bee’s wild efforts 
to retrench. “Now we must run along. Good- 
bye, Roily! Hope your kittie bleaches nicely, 
but I wouldn’t hang her out on the line,” 
with a mischievous twinkle. “I think she will 
know, herself, how to do her own laundering — 
cats always do. Good-bye, Mrs. Sherman, and 
we’ll be anxious to hear about the sebatia cot- 
tage,” she finished, following Bee’s imperative 
lead. 

And the charged silence that overwhelmed 
those two girls, heading directly to the Fremont 
Hotel, seemed like the last word in Social Service 
violations. 

After all, the heart of a real girl is a wild little 
animal to train, isn’t it? 


CHAPTER IX 


HISTORIC NEW ENGLAND 

“ E ASIDE ! Seaside!” chanted the train- 
man, and the Wayfarers drew deep 
breaths of anticipation. Plymouth, the 
historic town of America, was stretching out its 
green fields and its long trails of beach, just as 
faithful to its original plans and purposes as the 
most humble, even the most securely hidden, of 
any American coast town. Yet this is the one 
and only Plymouth! 

“There’s the harbor,” called out Beatrice. 

“And there’s Captain’s Hill,” indicated Patsy, 
“the home of Miles Standish, you know. See 
the monument on its crest!” 

The train had not yet fully stopped, and the 
girls were wide-eyed, eager to drink in every 
historic spot and landmark, and reverent in their 
awe of all the surrounding hallowed countryside. 
Every island out in the bay seemed marked as a 
99 


lOO 


PATSY CARROLL 


spot of Pilgrim significance, and every bluff 
stood out like a personal sentry, to watch and 
check the waves from desecrating onslaughts. 

“That’s Manomet Bluff,” said Aunt Martha, 
peering out of her car window at the hills that 
form an artificial breakwater. “And that, I am 
sure, is Clark’s Island.” 

“Where the Pilgrims spent their first Sab- 
bath,” suggested Eleanor, who had been devour- 
ing train-guides and train-boys’ booklets. 

“Which is Mayflower Channel?” asked Mabel 
innocently. 

“It’s buried in that bay somewhere, Mab dear,” 
answered Patsy, “but you see they can’t really 
fence in a channel.” 

“Oh,” agreed Mabel, a bit crestfallen. Of 
course a channel was merely a deeper canal in 
the water — she should have remembered. 

“But it’s very important,” Patsy condescended 
to explain, “because that channel is deep enough 
to allow vessels to come all the way up from the 
cape, sixteen miles farther down.” 

“Now who has been reading booklets?” joked 
Beatrice. “I suppose it’s my turn to perform. 
But wait a bit, let us land. Here, Aunt Martha, 
I’ll take your umbrella.” 

Tourists were descending upon the station, and 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


lOI 


making the usual round of seemingly useless in- 
quiries, while cabbies and taxi drivers offered all 
sorts of service, and many kinds of tours and pil- 
grimages through the colony. 

“Let’s walk up to the monument,” suggested 
Beatrice, as her contribution to the intelligence 
symposium. “There’s Court Street at the other 
end of this little park, and I know it is only a 
walk along Cushman Street, then north along 
Allerton, which will shortly bring the visitor to 
‘the National Monument of the Forefathers,’ ” 
she quoted literally. 

“You might get a place on top of a bus. Bee, 
you do call off so nicely,” remarked Patsy. “But 
I’m for a meal first. I feel I could not do justice 
to the Pilgrims while fasting. They had enough 
of that for all time. Let us go to that good- 
looking hotel over there and take a chance on 
real New England cooking. I hope it’s beef 
tenderloin,” she concluded lamely. 

“Indeed, beef tenderloin!” scoffed Aunt 
Martha. “More likely the New England boiled 
dinner with turnips, cabbage, potatoes, corn-beef, 
salt pork ” 

“Spare us !” moaned Beatrice. “We’ll take the 
rest on suspicion. Auntie. But still it might all 
be palatable. I feel the tang of the sea air — 


102 


PATSY CARROLL 


“So much better than Boston,” sniffed Mabel, 
“but I haven’t noticed any style,” she faltered. 
“Do you suppose these are all modern Priscillas?” 

“The New York and Boston variety,” whis- 
pered her sister, just as a gabbling group passed 
along. “Priscillas are only in the pageants these 
days, but we may see them at Provincetown if 
we get there. The big celebration for the Ter- 
centenary is to be held there this summer, you 
know.” 

“We may,” echoed Patsy, “but I have a feel- 
ing we won’t,” she whispered in Beatrice’s ear. 
“I want to find Beth and Torry. The longer we 
are away the more I miss them. I haven’t seen 
anyone yet to take their place in my heart,” she 
lisped, with more sincerity than her frivolous 
manner betrayed. 

“They were — nice,” replied Bee, “and I’ll help 
you find them, Pat. I did take to Torry quite 
considerable,” she affected. “Now for that cele- 
brated dinner. Pat, you may order for the Way- 
farers,” waved Beatrice grandly, shying a menu 
card in the direction of the girl in the creasless 
taffeta frock. 

At it happened, a really palatable lunch was 
provided, although the Macaroni a la Italia 
rather frustrated the poetical aspiration of the 


IN OLD NEPF ENGLAND 


103 


sightseers. But it was very good, and Patsy 
talked of Christopher Colombo, the son of an 
Italian wool-comber, getting to America first, 
which somewhat helped the macaroni. 

‘'Are you sure. Auntie, you feel like looking 
around to-day?” Patsy asked solicitously, as they 
finished eating. “We can just as well go out 
to South Plymouth, our own headquarters. It is 
not far to run in here and ” 

“No, really, dear. I feel like an excursion and 
I’m enjoying it. It’s just like a Sunday-school 
picnic, to ride in, eat in a strange place, and 
actually go to see Plymouth Rock. I’ll go along 
as far as you care to. I’m like Mabel — a little 
tired of the Boston restrictions.” 

“There !” exclaimed Nell. “Isn’t Aunt Martha 
the best Wayfarer? She wants the wilds and 
thrills and adventures. I hope we run into some- 
thing exciting. It’s all very well to be nice and 
prim and Priscilline, hut what about all our 
pretty clothes?” 

“Now, Nellie, just wait until you get over at 
Manomet Hills,” said Beatrice. “I believe there’s 
a wonderful country club there. Who knows 
but you may meet a sportsman, and he may in- 
vite you out to shoot wild ducks? Keep your 
heart, Nell, the sport is yet to come.” 


104 


PATSY CARROLL 


As if in answer to that prediction a woman 
appeared at the dining-room door, and glanced 
wildly about among those at tables or preparing 
to leave. In the survey her eye caught the Car- 
roll party, and without the slightest warning she 
called out: 

“There it is! I see it! She’s got it!” and the 
next moment the astonishing creature dashed 
down the aisle between the tables, and grabbed 
the piece of fox fur off Patsy’s neck! 

“I’ve got it,” she called out to a man who fol- 
lowed her, although the announcement was en- 
tirely superfluous. Everyone in that room knew 
she had “got it.” 

Patsy was too surprised to utter a syllable. 
She wanted to laugh, but feared the woman might 
be irresponsible, and there flashed through her 
startled imagination the possibility of that crea- 
ture grabbing a hat or so, next. Aunt ^Martha 
sank back in her chair pale and speechless, while 
the other girls were uncertain what should be 
done, and they stood staring at Patsy. 

Presently a gentleman at the next table rose 
and stepped up to the Wayfarers. 

“She has taken your fur?” he asked Patsy. 

“Why, yes, what can she mean?” Patsy re- 
plied. The woman was standing at the desk hug- 


IN OLD NEJV ENGLAND 


105 


ging the fox scarf and casting wild accusing 
glances over toward the astonished Wayfarers. 

“She evidently thinks it is her own,” replied 
the gentleman, “but I shall be glad to — ^help you. 
Are you guests here?” to Aunt Martha. 

“No, we just came to Plymouth,” Miss Carroll 
managed to explain. 

“But she can’t have my fur,” declared Patsy 
indignantly, starting toward the desk. The shock 
had disarmed her at first, but Patsy’s shocks were 
short lived. 

“Be careful, dear,” begged Aunt Martha, but 
Patsy scarcely heard, for she was now beside the 
desk with the strange gentleman at her elbow, 
and a curious crowd was encircling the queer 
woman. 

“She took it! She took it!” the woman 
snapped. “I had it on my bag as they came in, 
and I’d know that fur in a shop full.” 

“You are mistaken,” spoke Patsy in stinging 
tones. “That is my fur. I have worn in from 
New York City.” 

“Easy to say ; easy to say,” retorted the woman. 
“I just got it, Sam sent it from Boston, and I 
guess I know the fur my own husband sent me.” 

The gentleman who championed Patsy’s cause 
extended his hand. 


1 


PATSY CARROLL 


io6 


“Let me have that fur a moment, please,” he 
asked quietly. 

“Let you have it! Well, I guess not!” sang 
out the woman, every word climbing one note 
higher on her scale of scorn. Also her head 
wagged from side to side, and only the real baton 
was missing to complete the orchestral effect, as 
a leader’s start for chorus. 

But no one joined in. Instead the good-look- 
ing man supporting Patsy’s case, leaned over and, 
without a word, took the fur from the woman’s 
trembling hands. 

Then he stepped back to separate himself from 
those crowding about. 

“I’m Judge Davis of Boston,” he said to the 
hotel clerk. “I guess we can settle this presently. 
You are ?” he asked Patsy. 

“Patricia Carroll, of New York,” said our 
abused little friend. 

“And you?” to the woman who had seized the 
fur. 

“None of your busines who I be,” came the 
unpardonable retort. 

“Oh, yes, it is. Madam,” replied the judge. 
“And if you do not calm down soon, I shall be 
obliged to order your arrest for creating a dis- 
turbance.” 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


107 


This had the desired effect, and she, in feathers, 
ruffles, frizzes and hand-bags, replied in a rasping, 
nasal voice : 

“I’m Mrs. Sam Hingham, and I live out Taun^ 
ton way. Want t’know how many hens we 
keep?” 

“No, I just want you to keep a civil tongue 
in your head. Madam. This tirade won’t help 
your case any,” declared Judge Davis. 

“ ’Tain’t no tirade. It’s a plain neck scarf. 
I’d been a-wantin’ it ” 

The judge was now behind one of the small 
round tables, and a keen observer might have 
seen him examining the scarf he held, although 
he did so very cautiously. He just allowed the 
piece to roll over one hand while he brushed it 
with the other. 

“You claim you own this fur that I have seen 
you snatch from this young lady’s neck?” asked 
Judge Davis in severe tones. 

“Sartin, I owns it. Didn’t my Sam ” 

“Just answer the questions I ask, please,” went 
on the judicious gentleman. Aunt Martha and 
the girls stood near Patsy, and even at the price 
of the lovely fox scarf “the show” seemed a bar- 
gain, according to the glances they exchanged. 

“Gim’me that fur!” demanded the woman, los- 


io8 


PATSY CARROLL 


ing her temper again and forgetting the judge’s 
warning. “What do you take me for? If my 
Sam was here ” 

“Are there any identifying marks on this 
piece?” asked the inquisitor again. 

Patsy was about to speak when he raised his 
hand in protest. The question was intended for 
Mrs. Sam. 

“Marks on it?” she parried. “As if a woman 
could drawr a picture of them pretty hair lines! 
Why, I believe the animal thet — come from ” 

“Then you don’t know of any mark on it? 
Maker’s name or other business mark?” The 
legal eye was levelled at the excited woman. 

“I h’ain’t never took time to look it over care- 
ful,” she finally admitted, “but it seems to me 
there’s a ribbon tag right ’cross the top o’ the 
head. It has the Boston firm’s name, of course,” 
she finished triumphantly, in spite of the giggles 
and titters exuding about her! 

“On the top of his head!” whispered Mabel. 

“Poor foxie,” added Nell. “Headache, I sup- 
pose.” 

The judge indulged in a smile of his own. He 
shook his head and turned to Patsy. 

“Can you tell us how the fur is marked?” he 
asked kindly. 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


109 


“Directly in the center of the fur there is a 
loose edge, under that is a tiny ribbon in which 
is woven the name ‘Frigard — Furrier,’ ” said 
Patsy simply. 

“I find that is correct,” said Judge Davis with 
finality, “and this emergency court is adjourned.” 
He smiled broadly and held the fur out toward 
Patsy. Then he turned to Mrs. Sam. “My good 
woman, you are running the risk of imprisonment 
when you undertake an outrage of this sort. You 
knew perfectly well the fur belonged to the young 
lady who was wearing it,” he charged plainly. 
The woman tried to choke an answer, but it was 
all a choke. 

There was a stir among the curious spectators, 
and a little round, red-faced man, was pushing his 
way through the crowd. 

“What’s this, what’s this?” he twanged. “Sary, 
what ails yu? Raisin’ a rumpus like this! 
Where’d yu ever git a piece of ’possum skin like 
that?” he demanded angrily. 

“Sam, Sam!” spluttered the woman, grabbing 
the puffing individual by the coat sleeve (she had 
a great habit of grabbing things). “Take me 
home, Sam! These people is pesterin’ me!” 

“I’ll take jni home all right,” agreed Sam, far 
from amicably. “You’d ought’a stayed there, yu 


no 


PATSY CARROLL 


and yur fixin’s. Shame on yu to raise a rumpus 
like this !” 

“But she found it, Sam. A girl seen her pick 
it up. Couldn’t I j’est as well hev picked it up?” 
whimpered the woman. 

“Jedge, she’s gettin’ queerer an’ queerer. The 
idea of blamin’ Sam Sparks fer buyin’ cat skins! 
Much as I kin do to get rid of ’em. Then pre- 
tendin’ yu found the thing! Kind-a mixed up, 
ain’t it? Yu come along, Sary. Guess yu seen 
’nough of this town. Wonder to me y’er wasn’t 
locked up, outright,” and his red face seemed 
fairly to ooze little pink beads of moisture, that 
he vainly tried to mop off with a still redder hand- 
kerchief. 

“Poor man!” commiserated Aunt Martha. 
“Come away, girls, and don’t add to his embarass- 
ment. What an awful woman!” 

Judge Davis held his card in his hand. He 
now offered it to Miss Carroll. 

“I’m glad I happened to stop in here,” he re- 
marked courteously. “I was called to Plymouth 
this morning on the celebration commission. If 
you should need any further assistance you will 
find my hotel marked on the card.” 

The Wayfarers, each and all, managed to utter 
some word of appropriate thanks, and Patsy as- 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


III 


sured the judge the incident was entirely educa- 
tional. 

“WeVe learned a lot,” she said simply. “And 
we only hoped to follow the historic catalogues.” 

“That sort of thing can hardly be classified,” 
answered Judge Davis, “but it’s all in a sum- 
mer’s day ; and as you say. Miss Carroll, adds to 
one’s general knowledge. I know a Mr. Robert 
Carroll ” 

“That’s daddy,” interrupted Patsy, pardon- 
ably. 

“I suspected you might be Bob Carroll’s girl, 
with that head,” continued the judge. “We used 
to call Bob ‘Red’ at college,” and his eyes first lit 
up, then kindled gleefully. “Red and I were 
great chums. Give him my regards and tell him, 
if he comes down, to hunt me up. I’m still in 
business and he knows my Boston address,” con- 
cluded Judge Davis, taking his leave with courtly 
courtesy. 

“Red! My dad Red!” gasped Patsy. “I’m 
glad of it, now I have a joke on the major. Just 
fancy his lovely silver hair having been red — 
common red, like mine!” 

“Your father is not an old man, my dear,” 
Aunt Martha reminded her, with mild reproof 
in her tone. “But his hair turned gray — ^very 


II2 


PATSY CARROLL 


early. I think I have heard him mention Judge 
Davis of Boston,” reflected Aunt Martha. 

“Here, Bee,” called Patsy, succumbing to one 
of her impulses. “Put this fur in your bag, 
please. I shouldn’t want Sarry Sparks to way- 
lay me again, and as to a tame, mild, stupid time, 
Mab, it seems to me Plymouth can be a riot even 
in a circumspect little hotel. Did anyone pay the 
checks? Don’t make the mistake of escaping 
without fulfilling that formality. Here, Nell 
dear, you are the coolest looking, please hand this 
to the cashier.” 

And the excitement had so demoralized their 
plans, they were forced to seek out the South 
Plymouth boarding place without making the 
proposed pilgrimage to the Forefather’s Monu- 
ment. 

“We must take a taxi,” insisted Aunt Martha. 
“A woman like that might intercept us again.” 

“Intercept,” repeated Bee. “I called that 
pouncing upon one. Only for Judge Davis she 
might have won out.” 

“But Sam seemed dependable,” commented 
Patsy. “I’ll bet Sam ’ll box her ears if she 
doesn’t behave on the way home. Look ! There 
they go, in that carry-all. And just see her 
hands flying out in eloquence. What she isn’t 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


111 

saying about that ‘red-headed gurrl/ ” pondered 
Patsy, mischievously. 

“But at any rate,” put in Mabel, as they hailed 
a taxi, “it was lots of fun, and Judge Davis is 
almost as nice as our own daddy; isn’t he, Nell?” 

“Or almost as nice as Red Carroll,” put in 
Patsy, with a gleam in her gray eyes that must 
have sent a message to cover the miles between 
herself and the aforementioned “Red.” 

Patsy hoped for a letter at least, and was sure 
to find one awaiting her, in their new head- 
quarters. 


CHAPTER X 


A FLASH-BACK 


M eanwhile what of Beth and 

Torry? 

In a small alcove, curtained off of 
an old-fashioned, long parlor, the main wing of 
the Blessington Private Sanitorium, out Chelsea 
way, a white cot held the slender form of Beth 
Brandon; while at her side, stroking the very 
white, inert hand that lay like a wafer on the 
coverlet, sat the faithful Torry. 

For two weeks the girl had occupied that cot, 
and for two weeks the boy had occupied that 
chair, save when a heartless nurse would insist 
all visiting privileges be cancelled, and all visi- 
tors, even loving brothers, leave the patients* 
rooms. 

Days and hours were too weary and sad to 
recall. Nights of nameless terrors there were, 
when the thought of “no Beth” would force it- 




IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


111 

self on Torry, or the thought of “maimed for 
life” would torture the girl whose brain was 
gradually awakening to the realities of things 
about her. 

Miss Abbie was now “Aunt Abbie” to the 
Brandons, this term being adopted in recognition 
of the little lady’s loving care and devoted atten- 
tion with which she surrounded the sick girl, and 
gave, in part, to the anxious, unhappy brother. 

For Beth Brandon had passed through those 
shadows sacred to the Borderlands, and only her 
young heart, and indomitable vitality, had res- 
cued her from being led across by beckoning 
angels. 

To-day the doctors had moved the shell-like 
casts, and to-day the good news of “success” had 
been given out. 

So Torry sat now, defying the nurse, and Miss 
Abbie was behind the screen at the small dresser, 
with her dainty, white apron strings sticking out 
beyond the white panel, and nothing else but an 
occasional whisper betraying her presence. 

“Torry,” said the girl, oh, so faintly, “are you 
sure ” 

“Sure, Sis darling! Can’t you believe it?” 

“But suppose I am not able to bear it, you 
know? Suppose it isn’t true ” 


ii6 


PATSY CARROLL 


He leaned his brown head over the little 
capped-head on the flat pillow, and pressed his 
lips gently on that smooth brow. ‘‘Sis,” he whis- 
pered, “I am just kept from shouting by the fear 
of shocking you. It is — so true, so gloriously 
true, that I don’t know how to believe it all my- 
self!” 

The closed eyelids opened, and the big dark 
eyes awakened to the joy beaming down from 
Torry’s face. “It is so good. Brother,” she whis- 
pered, pressing his willing hands, “to think I 
will walk with you again ” 

“And dance and skate and hike ! Why, Sis, I 
feel like a kid! Wouldn’t wonder but what 
Aunt Abbie will have trouble getting me to 
bed to-night. It is so unbelievedly wonder- 
ful!” 

“Aunt Abbie is going to start right in now,” 
said a voice behind the screen, and incidentally, 
behind the apron strings. “Torry boy, come 
along home and let the child sleep,” and she came 
out into the light in her immaculate, white dimity 
dress, apron just a patch for neatness, and the 
little summer hat actually girlish with its black 
velvet band and spray of white lilac. It was a 
small panama hat, and Beth always loved to have 
Aunt Abbie wear it. 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


121 

Torry rose reluctantly, and sighed rather de- 
fiantly. 

“I suppose a fellow has to mind, Beth, but I 
just feel that I could sit here and look at you 
forever, I can see you now, as you were two years 
ago; Beth Brandon, the happiest, liveliest and, 
yes, the prettiest girl of all ” 

‘‘What about Patsy?” came a very small voice 
from the pillow ; and Torry gave in to a real boy’s 
laugh. 

“Patsy’s a peach, pardon slang. Auntie, but 
there is no synonym for peach, and Patsy’s that ! 
That reminds me, Sis ” 

“I know,” interrupted Aunt Abbie. “You 
have not yet written to those girls, Torry Bran- 
don!” 

“Oh, haven’t you, Torry?” asked his sister. 

“No, but there’s a reason. I’ve been waiting 
for the big news. Now I’ve got it. I’ll write 
straight off.” 

“Come,” prompted the nurse, and Torry gave 
his sister another kiss. Then he patted the cover- 
let, went over to the dresser and patted the flow- 
ers, patted Aunt Abbie’s shoulders and only 
stopped at the white fortress that inclosed the 
private nurse — ^the linen and the duck and, pos- 
sibly, the nainsook in the cap. Torry decided he 


PATSY CARROLL 


ii8 


would not attempt any more personal patting on 
that arctic display, so he meekly followed Aunt 
Abbie out into the lonely corridor. 

There he tucked the small arm under his own 
coat sleeve and they bravely started off. 

“Some girl,’’ he said irrelevantly, but Miss 
Abbie knew he referred to his sister. 

“Yes, a plucky little woman. A few days more, 
boy, and we’ll have her back home with us,” as- 
sured Miss Abbie. 

“Won’t that be great? Ginger! Aunt Abbie, 
what would we have done but for you, in all this?” 

“All right, I guess, dear. But bless that run- 
away flivver, if you like. She introduced us. 
Nurse says the doctors are simply delighted,” 
with sudden reversion to the important topic. 
“It seems there was a kink in the nerve. They 
feared, first, it might be dead.” 

“I always said that doc would fix her up, and 
now he’s done it,” declared Torry. “Aunt Abbie, 
I’m so happy, to-night, I don’t want to think of 
grandfather’s mistakes. But he wanted so much 
to see Beth cured, and to think we can’t get the 
money we need from that fool will!” 

“Hush, dear. That’s bound to come right 
some time. And you’ve promised me you are not 
going to worry about money while there’s a check 


IN, OLD NEW ENGLAND 


2 ^ 

left in my new book,” she laughed lightly at the 
time-honored joke. “Besides, I have longed, all 
my life, to have a girl I could care for 

“And a boy?” 

“Yes, a boy, too,” with an, affectionate squeeze 
of the convenient arm. “And now I feel I have 
something worth while to think about, when I 
draw my curtains at nightfall.” 

“You surely ought to have. They must be 

visions — ^i*eal visions — of Beth ” he stopped 

suddenly, and they walked along in silence. 
Torry had been drawing on his nerve force, and 
now felt the supply running down. Miss Abbie 
took the cue and did not interrupt his soliloquy. 

At the confectioner’s near the home corner. 
Aunt Abbie stopped to make some purchases and 
Torry insisted on getting ice cream. 

“I wish Sis could have some,” he murmured. 
“She does so like ice cream ” 

“She can in a day or two; and think how con- 
venient this will be when we get her home,” mused 
Miss Abbie. “Of course, that’s a nice enough 
sanitarium, but a hospital is a hospital, and I 
don’t see how the nurses stand them. And such 
pretty nurses, too.” 

It was two hours later, when dinner had been 
cleared away, that Torry undertook to write the 


120 


PATSY CARROLL 


news to Patsy. As a rule, Torrington Brandon 
was rather a deliberate chap who made up his 
mind, then promptly executed that make up, but 
just now he was destroying sheet after sheet of 
Beth’s best stationery, and although he admitted 
he had really big news to tell, somehow he was 
making rather a fluke of the telling. 

‘‘Self-conscious,” he almost hissed at himself, 
“and just because the letter is to a girl. Come 
to, old fellow,” he prodded, “this is to be Beth’s 
letter, just proofed f* 

With that realization, he managed to get 
Patsy’s name on the paper to his satisfaction; 
also he jumped right in to say his sister was 
“getting along wonderfully” and her “prospects 
were bright beyond expectations.” These seemed 
like words lacking in energy, especially as “pros- 
pects” rather clashed with “expectations,” but 
admitting that these girl letters were a nuisance, 
and that a fellow couldn’t very well say things 
simply (why, we wonder?), Torry ran along a 
few non-commital lines, and succeeded very well 
in hiding his real meaning. This was not his in- 
tention, but self-consciousness is the one gigantic 
barrier to self-expression, and Torry had a very 
acute case of that style of masonry in his cast. 

He mentioned the old homestead, but said he 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 12 1 


felt now it would be best to take his sister down 
to the Cape immediately, if her physicians would 
give permission, as even the memories at the old 
place might do violence to her tender mental con- 
dition. ‘‘So we have left the house entirely to 
the agents,” he wrote, “and I suppose it is rented 
to some ambitious boarding-house shark by now.” 
Torry sighed as he wrote this. 

The call of the old homestead had been urgent, 
and he wanted to get out there and see how things 
looked. He wanted to have the estate fixed up 
attractively for a market that must have place 
for such a desirable piece of property, and per- 
haps, more than anything else, he wanted to be 
a boy again, for just a brief vacation In the 
scenes so dear to him since his own happy child- 
hood! He sighed as he turned away from the 
lines written to Patsy. 

“Too bad those girls couldn’t get the place,” 
he murmured. “I feel I could sell it quickly 
enough, if some real humans undertook to live 
there for a few weeks. But what’s the use of 
whining? Nothing so spoils a place as abandon- 
ment,” he concluded logically. 

Behind all this was a cause working. College 
next fall loomed up large and attractive, but 
Torry had spent his money for Beth’s operation! 


122" 


p^r^r CARROLn 


“If I never put my head inside of a college 
again,” he reflected, “that part is beyond argu- 
ment. To think that Sis is to be well! Gee 
whiz! Say, boy,” he shook himself, “how about 
that girl letter?” 

"A. happy thought rewarded his perserverance. 

“Aunt Abbie,” he called to the next room, 
“Any message for our friends, the Carrolls? 
^^ou know IVe told you about them, and how 
much you are like their little auntie. It would 
be great if we could all come together, somehow, 
during the summer.” 

“But, my dear boy!” said Aunt Abbie, unfold- 
ing and then donning the dainty little apron she 
had carried to the hospital with her (Aunt Abbie 
couldn’t think clearly outside an apron). “You 
know. Sister must be kept very quiet, and even 
joy is exciting. Wait till we see how she gets 
along. For the first two weeks at least, we will 
let her listen to nothing but the birds, the sea and 
our own loving voices. I have heard, to-day, that 
I can have my friend’s cottage, and with my own 
maid, Susan, we will be quite comfortable for a 
while.” Beth’s maid, Selma, had been tempo- 
rarily dismissed. “Send this address,” handing 
him a slip of paper, “and extend my regards as 
your auntie,” she smiled, “I am sure I shall be 


m OLD NEW. ENGLAND 


123 


delighted to meet Miss Carroll, as soon as Beth 
is strong enough to stand wholesome excitement.” 

“Oh, I see,” agreed Torry, scratching away to 
add the forwarding address to Patsy’s letter. 
“She has to be on liquid diet for body and mind for 
a while. That’s all right. Auntie, you’re the boss, 
and I’m glad to oblige. I told the girls” (with a 
superfluous show of indifference) “the old house 
was probably rented, and that we couldn’t go out 
there until towards Pall, if at all. Now, if you 
will tell me where your letters are. I’ll go out to 
the station, and post them all, then I’ll ’phone to 
see how Beth is resting before that indomitable 
gong strikes nine. Where’s Zip?” 

“Waiting for you, and thumping every wisp 
of fur off his poor, little, impatient tail. Here, 
Zippy! He will be so glad of a run! I had to 
leave him in his little yard this whole afternoon, 
for people will persist in forgetting to close the 
front gate, and we don’t want Zippy starting off 
alone to find Beth. Jle does seem to miss her 
so!” 

But if he did miss the g'rl taken away from 
him, and hidden behind the big doors of the Bless- 
ington Sanitarium, the frisky little Zippy forgot 
to mention the fact when Torry allowed him to 
caper on ahead, down through the boxwood-edged 


124 


¥ATSY, CARROLL 


path to the arched front gate, and then out along 
the quiet, surburban roadway to the post-office 
sub-station. 

Torry told the little animal there was “big 
news of the best kind,” and that may have ac- 
counted for his frantically wild delight. 

If there is anything happier than a happy little 
dog, it must be a happy big dog, and that only 
because he has more room to be happy in ! 

So Torry finally mailed the letter to Patsy. 

And Zippy barked approval. 


CHAPTER XI 


PATSY AND THE HAWK 

I N due time the letter was received. The 
postmark, and the unmistakable boyish-hand 
inscription, sent a ripple of excitement 
through the entire group of Wayfarers, who were 
seated on the big, wide, vine-clambered porch of 
their South Plymouth boarding house, there 
awaiting the day’s biggest event: the arrival of 
the postman. 

Patsy slipped the letter behind a number of 
others — ^keeping the best for the last — ^but all eyes 
were upon her, and Nell, ignoring the usual pro- 
priety of guests in the rocking chair brigade, 
ed^ed over and attempted to secure the prize. 

“Oh, no, lady!” cautioned Patsy. “That’s 
mine !” 

“But it’s from Boston, and from Beth, of 
course. Do hurry and pass it around,” pleaded 
NeU. 


125 


126 


PATSY CARROLL 


‘‘Maybe/’ parried the other. “But I always 
like a personal reading first,” slipping the letter 
in at her belt. “Here are cards from the girls; 
there’s a lovely letter from Gene — she’s going to 
Bar Harbor, and here’s one you may all devour : 
an invitation to join a party for the Berkshires,” 
and Patsy passed along the bulk of the mail. 

“As if we cared for any of that/^ scoffed Bee. 
“Read your letter, Pat, the letter, and pass that 
along. We are not so easily side-tracked as all 
that.” 

Patsy jumped up and sprang off the porch, 
ignoring the near-by steps. Nell raced after her, 
while Bee and Mab joined in the chase. Through 
the bushes they ducked and dodged, down over 
the sloping hill that fell in a patch of a pond, 
bordering the two old estates. Patsy slipped 
like a water-creature into a canoe that lay near 
the edge and pushed out, paddling with her hands 
to a distance of safety. 

She waved the letter triumphantly over her 
head with a free hand, while the little skiff 
caressed the tiny ripples responding to Patsy’s 
trailing fingers. Her companions stood on the 
bank calling all sorts of threats to the truant 
Wayfarer, and only the demands of a flock of 
“boarding house ducks,” that made for the bank. 


/iVj OLD new: ENGLAND 


127 


expecting a meal of purloined crumbs, seemed to 
prevent Nell from slipping off pumps and socks, 
and indecorously wading out to the drifting 
canoe. 

It was one of those perfect summer days, when 
the pure blue sky promised a fresh west wind, and 
the little cloud-ships sailed away out across the 
bay in fleets and squadrons, heading straight past 
the Gurnet, where, on that memorable day, De- 
cember 26 , 1620 , the Forefathers first touched, 
in their exploration of the land of the Red Men. 
Somehow, even the elements seem to reverence 
Cape Cod Bay as the cradle of the famous Ply- 
mouth Rock, and as Patsy so happily pushed the 
insignificant, home-made canoe through its nar- 
row path in the brook, that lay like a tiny basin 
of rainfall in the deep green meadow of South 
Plymouth, she was reminded of the days when 
other girls pushed their barks out in deeper 
streams, to bring back to the early colonists sup- 
plies of fish from the water, or corn from the 
fields of the Red Men. Earliest American his- 
tory, even the record of the Mayflower itself, is 
very clear on this point. According to official 
documents: ‘‘The original exploring party hav- 
ing landed from the rock, marched also into land 
and found divers corn fields and little running 


128 


PATSY CARROLL 


brooks, a place very good for situation. So we 
returned to our ship again with good news to the 
rest of the people, which did much comfort their 
hearts.” 

Patsy wondered if the other girls recalled this 
historical paragraph, for, trivial as the connection 
was, at that moment she felt the spirit of all 
Priscillas breathing their inspirational influence 
about her. 

Out in the center of the humble pond a sturdy 
rock stood monumental, and being still in the 
Pilgrim mood, this modern Wayfarer “landed” 
upon it. 

There she sat safely triumphant, her little bark 
obeying the rope she held it by, her lithe form 
nestling comfortably in the grooved seat of the 
generous rock, while from the shore her com- 
panions begged even the ducks to “go get Patsy.” 

“I’m going to read the letter now!” she shouted 
across, impishly. “If you’re good, and it has 
good news. I’ll bring it back — after a while.” 

“All right for you!” called over Mab in a 
threatening tone that belied the words. “We 
hope your boat drifts away and leaves you 
stranded.” 

“I could walk back,” retorted the girl on the 
rock, “but it’s lovely out here.” 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


129 


“So it is,” agreed Beatrice to those on shore. 
“It seems to me Massachusetts abounds in pond- 
farms — they must have planted them long ago, 
there’s such fine, puddly crops all over.” 

“Ponds and golf links,” said Nell. “Do you 
suppose the Pilgrims played the big game, or 
did the links spring up since their time?” 

“Eleanor Perry! How dare you joke about 
the Pilgrims!” charged her sister Mabel. “Well 
for you our worthy boarding house mistress 
doesn’t hear you, or you would be set to reading, 
all over again, those weighty volumes of the 
Bradford History she wished upon us last eve- 
ning. But just look at Patsy devouring that 
helpless letter! It’s from Torry, of course. 
What a pity we couldn’t have wrung it from her ! 
I should have enjoyed nothing better than oblig- 
ing the pompous Patsy to sit up and beg for the 
news. Now she makes us sit down and wait for 
it,” and Mab dropped to a velvet spot in the 
meadow, where the little pink blooms and blue 
forget-me-nots hid in the tall, silky grass. 

New York maids or New England maid! 
Where was the fundamental difference just then? 

“But Pat is always a good sport,” quoth Bee, 
“She’ll flop into that canoe and paddle back pres- 
ently.” 


130 


PATSY CARROLE 


Smiling at the absurdity of the situation, the 
girls settled down to wait, when, suddenly, they 
noticed a big black bird circling round over 
Patsy’s head. 

‘‘Oh, look!” shouted Nell. “Is that a hawk? 
It’s going to swoop down on ” 

But before the sentence was completed a shriek 
of terror echoed across the water, and the bird 
had opened wider his wings, spread his great 
claws and swooped down upon the unknowing 
Patsy! 

She threw up her hands to beat the thing off 
wildly, but not before the talons had fastened 
themselves in her abundant hair, and her scream 
of pain terrified the girls standing helpless on 
the opposite shore. 

“How can we reach her?” cried Nell, but 
Beatrice did not wait to answer. She started out 
first to walk, then to wade, and finally, getting 
into water sufficiently deep, she struck out to 
swim to the rock only a few rods away, but now, 
seemingly, as distant as safety itself for the 
stricken girl. 

[Another scream, and the great, vicious bird 
flew upward again, while Patsy, all but collapsed, 
rolled off the slant rock into the water. 

A few more strokes and Bee was beside her. 


m OLD NEW ENGLAND 


111 

‘Tat, dear, are you hurt?’’ she gasped, her head 
well out of the water and her arms now almost 
upon the swaying canoe. 

“Oh, my head!” moaned Patsy. “I feel 
scalped!” 

“Take hold of me, and get hack to the rocK,” 
ordered Beatrice, for at this point the water chan- 
nelled and was dangerously deep. Patsy took 
the extended hand and again clambered up the 
slippery rock. That both were drenched was no 
matter of consideration, but when Beatrice saw 
tiny drops of blood trickle down Patsy’s white 
face she was terrified, indeed. 

“You poor child!” she murmured, throwing a 
dripping arm around her. “What an awful 
thing! That savage bird!” 

“Yes, and I never even heard it coming,” fal- 
tered Patsy. “I was so absorbed in the letter. 
Have I still got it?” feeling in her sagging belt. 

“Oh, don’t bother about it, dear. See if we can 
get in the canoe, and I’ll paddle over. I’m afraid 
your head is hurt.” 

“Only scratched, but don’t tell Aunt Martha. 
It won’t be anything, I’m sure,” she was brushing 
away the tell-tale marks that left ugly red streaks 
over her frightened face. “Who would ever think 
a bird would come down like that?” 


132 


PATSY CARROLL 


“It must get food here, see those crusts and 
corn husks ? I suppose the creature saw the white 
flutter of your paper, and came down for food,” 
Bee reasoned. 

“But are they usually so sagacious? How- 
ever,” and Patsy sighed through a broken smile, 
“he’s gone now, and I hope I have a few hairs 
left. Really, Bee, I just felt as if he lifted the 
scalp clear off my poor red head.” 

“It’s still on, thank goodness!” breathed 
Beatrice. “But I must say you did have a nar- 
row escape. Are you sure you are not cut — 
deep?” 

“No,” and Patsy felt gently through the tan- 
gled wet hair, “I’m not cut at all, I’m sure. But 
see the poor girls frightened to death over there I 
Shout to them I’m all right. I’m afraid the old 
hawk would come back if I defied him openly.” 

Beatrice knew it was not dread of the hawk 
that controlled Patsy’s voice, but she called a re- 
assurance over to the girls, who seemed likely to 
follow her own example, and swim out to the 
rock, if those marooned upon it did not soon re- 
turn. 

Skilfully both Beatrice and Patsy plied their 
hands through the water to paddle in again, and 
after all were assured that the bird had done no 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


133 


greater damage than scratching Patsy’s hands, 
and tearing her hair cruelly with his sudden at- 
tack, the next difficulty was that of luring Aunt 
Martha off somewhere while the two drenched 
girls got into dry clothing. 

Fortunately that part of the grounds was de- 
serted in the early morning, and during all the 
excitement none but the stupid ducks witnessed 
the Wayfarers’ distress. The pond was some 
distance from the old homestead, now converted 
into a profitable lodge or boarding house, and 
not even the small boy, usually so unavoidable, 
happened along during the encounter. 

It was finally agreed that Mabel should go up 
to the house and see if the coast was clear, and 
if Aunt Martha was safely engaged for at least 
fifteen minutes. Then Mabel was to give the 
signal: three trills, and the other girls would 
dash up the path, run in the back door and get to 
their bathroom, where Mabel was to have gowns 
ready, while Eleanor then made away with the 
damaging evidence of the encounter. 

‘‘We will have to be pretty lively to get over 
all those bright rugs without leaving a trail,” 
said Bee. “Are you sure, Pat, your head won’t 
throb in hurrying?” she asked anxiously. 

^ “Oh, perfectly,” Patsy assured her. “All I’m 


13 ? PATSY CARROLL 

worrying about now, is Aunt Martha. She would 
vision blood-poison, or bird-rabies, if she ever 
knew. I’m so glad the scratch is hidden in my 
hair. Are you sure there is no more blood any- 
where?” 

“Not a trace; and you’re lucky, Pat.” 

“You have a queer idea of luck. First my 
neck-piece snatched by crabbed old Sary Sparks, 
and next my head-piece is seized by some sort of 
chicken hawk. Great luck, if you don’t care what 
you say! Listen! The coast is clear. Let’s run,” 
and run they did, clear up to the back steps that 
led to the servants’ porch over the kitchen en- 
trance to the long, rambling house. 

Comfort, the cook, was just outside taking a 
rock in her big chair, between breakfast and 
lunch, and she tried to halt them, but with a 
“tumbled in the pond” from Bee, and a hearty 
laugh from Comfort, who managed to exclaim 
that “water was good fer ducks and summer 
boarders,” they escaped to the room where Mab 
was waiting with the bath robes. 

“Aunt Martha is exchanging recipes with the 
lady from Falmouth,” explained the agitated 
Mabel, “and they were safe on lemon pie when 
I came up.” 

“Plenty of time, then,” panted Patsy, “See, 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


135 


Bee, it’s my hand that’s scratched. That’s where 
the blood came from.” She displayed an ugly 
scratch across her knuckles, from which a pinkish 
fluid now comingled with water, as she tried to 
divest herself of her wet garments. 

“Better still,” replied Bee cheerfully. “I’ll 
fix up all the scratches quickly, as we are safe 
from detection. Run along, Mab, and get the 
iodine. It isn’t pretty, but it’s sure.” 

“Say, girls,” said Patsy contritely, “there’s that 
letter. It’s wet, but the lines, what there are, may 
be deciphered. I’m awfully sorry I plagued you, 
but the news is worth the whole experience. Just 
read it ” 

Eleanor, who was neither wet nor waiting on 
the victims, read it aloud, every word. And if 
Torry Brandon could have viewed the scene even 
letter-writing to girls would have been justified 
for him. 

“Cheers!” almost shouted Eleanor. 

“Don’t you dare!” warned Patsy. “This is my 
party, and I don’t intend to spoil it. Come along 
and dress for lunch. No need for a bath in the 
bay this morning.” 

“But can you imagine Beth able to walk?” 
gasped the excited Eleanor, almost caressing the 
fateful bit of paper. 


136 


PATSY, CARROLB 


“Somehow I never could imagine that she 
couldn’t walk,” answered Patsy. “But what an- 
noys me is they haven’t asked us to come see 
her.” 

“Oh, a boy !” argued Bee. “He wouldn’t ask 
us unless someone dictated. But just trust the 
Wayfarers to get around a little difficulty like 
that. Hark! There’s the auntie! Skip, girls, 
and do be doing something sensible!” 

“My hair is the most useful alibi of my entire 
existence,” whispered Patsy, seizing a brush, but 
stroking very gently at the tangled mass. 

Not a moment too soon, for the lemon recipes 
had evidently been exhausted as a medium of con- 
fidential exchange, and Miss Carroll was all 
ready for Torry’s big news. 

If Beth Brandon had been a much more inti- 
mate friend of the group than she was, her re- 
covery could not possibly have caused keener joy. 

But, after all, what is greater than the boon 
of recovered strength to a young girl? The mir- 
acle, indeed, when she who is helpless is made to 
walk again. 

“Torry’s a brick !” announced Patsy, accepting 
again the crumpled sheet. And no one objected 
to the trite compliment. 


CHAPTER XII 


GLORIOUS PLYMOUTH ROCK 

‘•ir DON’T see why you should be so disap- 
I pointed, Patsy,” said Eleanor next morn-^ 
^ ing, as they prepared for a trip to the real 
Plymouth Rock, “y^^ hear from Roily’s 
mother, and even if we don’t get an old homestead 
for a camp, there are endless chances of good 
times in New England.” 

‘T know all that, Nellie,” replied Patsy, ‘‘but 
I wanted so much this year to give Aunt Martha 
a rest of her own kind. She has been racing all 
over the country with us for summers past, and 
I planned this year to give her a little return for 
all that exhausting anxiety. \Yon see. Auntie is 
like my real mother, Nell, and you wouldn’t want 
your mother to wear herself out that way. Be- 
sides, Nellie, I made all the plans for the first 
time this year. Dad always arranged before, but 
I wanted to manage this, and I don’t want to 
make a fizzle of it.” 


137 


138 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Well, I wouldn’t worry about it, Pat, you 
always come out all right ” 

“But I must always go along right. There is 
no such thing as bagging the pet god of good- 
luck, unless you set a trap for him.” 

“Did Torry say the place was positively 
rented?” 

“Yes, there’s the relic letter. I think we ought 
to frame it. Maybe the gay bird — ^the hawk, I 
mean — ^belongs to the historical ornithological so- 
ciety, and was out collecting documents when he 
came down on me.” 

Eleanor picked up from the old colonial 
dresser the water-stained paper, and read the 
message concerning the homestead. She looked 
up as she jSnished. 

“To be frank, Pat, I’m rather glad, although 
of course, I am sorry if you are disappointed,” 
she appended with a girl’s delightful indifference 
for logic. “You know Beth and Torry hinted of 
weird things about the old place, and land knows, 
we had enough of spooks down South!” 
(Eleanor referred to the story told in “Patsy 
Carroll Under Southern Skies.”) 

“But we had a wonderful time trapping the 
old ghost ” 


m OLD NEW ENGLAND 


139 


“Patricia Carroll! I do believe you enjoy 
hunting ghosts!’^ 

“There’s poorer sport. Besides, haven’t you 
complained about New England being tame? 
The historic stuff is valuable, of course, and I 
love it, but I insist on something more exciting 
on our programme.” 

Eleanor broke into a merry laugh and threw 
her arms around Patsy. 

“You duck!” she exclaimed. “I see your 
scheme, now. You actually want a ghost installed 
in our camp, and I know perfectly well you’ll 
get one. All right, dear, you may have one, and 
you can depend upon me to help entertain him. 
I hope it’s a male ; we had the female of the species 
last time.” 

Mabel and Beatrice had been out to the village 
notion store and were just returning. Aunt 
Martha was ready for the trip to the rock, and 
now utilized her spare moments writing letters 
in the little alcove, off the big parlor on the first 
floor. 

“Sure your head is all right?” inquired Bee 
solicitously, seeing Patsy place her lightest hat 
rather gingerly bn the coiled, auburn hair. 

“Perfectly. In fact, I think the Hawk must be 
in the scalp treatment business, and was looking 


140 


TATSY CARROLL 




for customers. But I did make a mistake in not 
wearing a hat. My hair is such a signal light.” 

“Here are the bathing caps,” offered Mabel. 
“That’s what we’d all better wear when we go 
out on rocks in old colony ponds. Ugh! I just 
shudder every time I think of that bird! Pat, 
honestly, I expected to see you soaring up and 
sailing away to some wild nest in the ocean’s 
rocky turrets. What’s the name of the bird that 
nestles in ocean rocks ?” 

“Not chicken hawks, at any rate,” replied Bee 
crisply. 

“That wasn’t a chicken hawk, either. I asked ^ 
the gardener and he said it was a hen hawk.” 

“Same variety,” laughed Bee, “only the gar- 
dener is New English and we are New Yorkish.” 

“But you didn’t tell him the bird tried to scalp 
me?” exclaimed Patsy, apprehensively. 

“Nary a word about that. Just asked what 
sort of birds fly around the big gray rock. He 
assured me summer boarders did fool things, even 
to stealing cake from the table to put out on the 
rock for squawking hen hawks. Of course, 
Hawky thought you belong to his band of table- 
boarder robbers, Pat. I’m ready,” picking up 
her bag, “but I think we ought to go to the sou- 
venir store and see if we could buy a rabbit’s foot 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


— 

for luck before we start out. They say things 
happen in threes, and Pat has had two ” 

“The third must be a surprise in joy, not in 
disaster,” foretold Bee. “Pat has had enough 
trouble to appease the wrath of any old jinx. 
But, listen a moment, Pat,” she nudged her com- 
panion as they reached the first stair landing. 
“What about the August camp? Where do we 
go from here?” 

“Nell and I have just been talking that over. 
We’ve got to give up the Brandon place, of 
course, but I have hopes Roily’s mother will find 
^he one she spoke of. Dad warned me against 
the lure of agents, that’s why I am trying the 
personal touch; like your Social Service, Bee. 
I’m afraid I rather disgraced the profession; 
didn’t I?” 

“No, you didn’t, little girl. Even standards 
admit of some variation, else they would be ob- 
structions. What splendid weather we are hav- 
ing! I suppose fog will be due just about time 
for the big pageant.” 

“Hope not. Coming, Aunt Martha; and we 
are just on time; may I remind you?” giving an 
affectionate little pressure for Miss Carroll’s arm, 
and joining her at the front door. 

Then the Wayfarers were ready for the most 


142 


PATSY CARROLL 


important of all sight-seeing in New England — 
a view of Plymouth Rock. There are many 
points of interest, monuments of noble deed and 
heroic service, and natural scenic beauties scat- 
tered all over the old colonial settlements, but 
Plymouth Rock is the high altar of reverence, 
the landmark world-famous, but most dear to the 
heart of every intelligent American — intelligent 
to the extent of knowing what that Rock stands 
for. 

A feeling of awe and impersonal concentration 
possessed each girl, and Miss Carroll, as they 
started off from their rendezvous in South Ply- 
mouth. Once Mabel, who more than the others 
seemed bent on the personal enjoyment of every 
hour, ventured to inject that element by suggest- 
ing they vary the sight-seeing with some modern 
motion pictures that afternoon, but she was 
checked, rather decisively, by her sister Eleanor, 
who declared no such commonplace diversion 
should spoil the day’s historic pilgrimage. 

Going through Court Street to North, where 
the name of the thoroughfare changes to Main 
Street, the Wayfarers found themselves facing 
the hill where, among the fine old mansions of 
Winslow Street, is that of Edward Winslow, 
brother to General John Winslow. It was built 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


143 


by Edward in 1754 and is still a magnificent 
structure. The frame was brought from Eng- 
land, and as it stands to-day no more imposing 
type of New England home may be found 
throughout the early settlements. Two noble lin- 
den trees arch the entrance to the grounds, and 
these were planted by Edward Winslow’s daugh- 
ter, in 1760. 

Patsy had her guide book in hand as they 
went along. 

‘T intend,” she announced, “to write a story 
on all this for our school paper Tellit, and I want 
to make sure the books of description match up 
with my memory impressions.” 

“Just let me glimpse this page,” asked 
Eleanor. “I have read about the New England 
family trees, the real trees planted in front of the 
houses on either side of the gate-way, by the 
bride and groom. I want to see if these are 
mentioned for the Winslow mansion.” It was 
then the above data giving credit for the trees 
to “the Winslow daughter” was quoted. 

“Now we can almost see the Rock,” said Sunt 
Martha rather gravely. They were descending 
Cole’s Hill toward the harbor. 

“Somehow I feel rather funereal,” commented 
temperamental Nellie, with a sigh. 


14 ? 


PATSY CARROLL 


“That’s awe,” explained Patsy. “A-W-E,” 
she spelled out. “Lovely, neat little word not 
to be confused with a groan. The other is a 
breathing exercise, spelled A-H! There I I see 
the Rock! I spied it first. See the granite can- 
opy?” 

“But that’s not a natural sea-hewn rock,” ob- 
jected Mab, just a bit disappointed, as the artistic 
granite canopy that now sheltered the Rock, 
loomed in sight at the foot of the hill. 

“Have patience, girlie,” cautioned Bee. “The 
real rock is beneath that structure. Haven’t you 
seen any guide at all?” 

“Oh, yes; I remember now,” confessed the 
worldly Mab. “But there are so many monu- 
ments, I thought that was just one of them.” 

“It is, the One of all,” added Patsy, while Aunt 
Martha drew a deep, reverential breath, for now, 
indeed, they stepped upon hallowed ground — ^the 
resting place of Plymouth Rock. 

Beneath this granite canopy, which is sup- 
ported by four columns, is seen the boulder, which 
just three hundred years ago welcomed that band 
of pilgrims, who after resting for the Sabbath 
(the day before) on Clark’s Island, turned their 
shallop shoreward, and found there this great oval 
rock, flat at top, and just near enough shore to 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


145 


afford them a safe spring, dry shod, to the land 
they had chosen to settle upon. 

All about them there were wilds and unknown 
dangers, but, steering their queer sailboat of the 
type called ‘‘shallop” up to the welcoming rock, 
they gratefully set foot upon its peculiarly con- 
venient surface, and when the “ten principal 
men” had each made himself safe upon this boul- 
der, and no doubt raised prayerful eyes to heaven 
for the privilege, the Landing of the Forefathers 
was complete. All this was fresh in the minds of 
the Wayfarers as they gazed in wonder at the 
immortal monument. Guides about offered in- 
formation, but Patsy smiled them; off with a flare 
of her reliable little brown book of references. 

“Sit down here, girls,” she directed, “and let 
us refresh our memory. I know this rock has 
had more journeys than the body, or relics, of 
Columbus, and I believe they are planning to 
move it again. Let’s see when it was all put to- 
gether up here.” They seated themselves on the 
coping near the tall iron fence that now protects 
the rock. 

*‘They couldn’t land here?” objected the doubt- 
ing Mabel, “for the Rock is some little distance 
from the water.” 

, “They didn’t,” agreed Patsy. “Here is what 


146 


PATSY CARROLL 


I’m looking for.” She turned a page or two 
and read : 

“The upper portion of the renowned boulder, 
nearly all of which is now in sight, was, for one 
hundred and six years, separated from the origi- 
nal Rock, and during all this long period, 
occupied localities remote from the landing 
place.” 

Patsy turned to the Rock and pointed out the 
cemented crack. 

“There, you see,” she said, “that’s where the 
top was put on.” 

“But how did it get off?” This from Eleanor. 

“Nell, you’re too literal,” laughed Patsy. “I 
thought we might leave some of this for a more 
convenient survey, but, since you insist — Let me 
see, yes, here you are.” Again she quoted: 

“In 1744, during the series of events leading 
to the Revolution, an attempt to raise the Rock 
for transportation to the Town Square disclosed 
the fact that the upper portion had become sepa- 
rated from the lower, probably through action 
of the frost. It was taken to the Square, where 
it was deposited at the foot of a liberty pole, from 
which waved a flag bearing the motto : 

“ ‘Liberty or Death.’ ” 

Patsy paused for dramatic effect. Aunt 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


T47 


Martha was returning from her solitary expedi- 
tion around the big canopy. 

“There’s a lot more wonderful information,” 
said Patsy, “but we can’t drink it all in here. We 
have much more to see. Just let us take one 
more soul-filling view of that stone, then shut 
our eyes on it and seal it up in our memory, like 
a film that must be kept from the light. Later 
I am going to make sure of a few more para- 
graphs in this history, taken from Bradford’s, 
you know, girls. But just now let us be content 
with the Rock. Dear, old, glorious stepping- 
stone to religious liberty!” she breathed. “How 
wonderful to have you here, to tell us the great 
story in your unchiseled silence !” 

“Rather good, Pat,” commented Bee, approv- 
ingly, “for the unchiseled silence surely tells a 
mute story. There, you see, we are a bit leeward, 
but we mean well, and that’s the main thing.” 

So they left the Rock, reading as they went: 

*‘The Rock was originally a solid boulder of 
5a,bout seven tons, and of glacial deposit. It is 
]greenish syenite, very hard, and takes a high pol- 
ish when fragments are worked.” 

*‘And we couldn’t have a souvenir,” bemoaned 
the ever-literal, positive and personal Eleanor. 

The Wayfarers merely shook their heads. 


148 


PATSY CARROLL 


‘‘Are they really going to move it again?” 
asked Nell. 

“So the celebration plans say,” replied Patsy. 

“Then I’ll leave room for an insert in my 
diary,” commented Nell. 

“I believe the Colonial Dames are to provide 
a new canopy,” Bee told them. 

“Yes, I saw that announced. And also that 
the rock is to be placed partly in the water,” con- 
cluded Patsy. 


CHAPTER XIII 


CROSSED WIRES 

B y some strange, subtle influence, perhaps 
most reasonably accounted for by admit- 
ting that true affection is something of the 
soul, and springs to life like faith itself, the un- 
told dangers that hung over the innocent head of 
Beth Brandon, now seemed to be signalling Patsy 
and her friends. 

First Aunt Martha sensed it, and openly 
commented on ‘‘the risk that boy was taking in 
seeking surgical aid for the sister without ma- 
ture guidance.” Then Patsy, impulsive and 
daringly sympathetic, seized upon the plan of 
getting the old homestead as a camp — she felt 
that the necessary property adjustment which 
the two Brandons so coveted would then be ar- 
ranged. In fact, she was secretly planning to 
arrange it, when, without reasonable explanation, 

149f 


150 


PATSY CARROLL 


the old place was swept from her list of available 
rentals. 

Not even the delightful little Roily, whose 
mother was enthusiastically promising by letter 
something equally attractive, offered real satis- 
faction in the substitute. Some old friend, a for- 
mer employer, left an estate, and Roily’s mother 
was to write the agent about it and, if satisfac- 
tory, she would go to the country home with the 
Wayfarers. But through all this a smouldering 
streak of disappointment marred the programme 
of summer days, and now that the girl Beth was 
to be able to walk, and perhaps could in some 
way take part in their pleasures, Patsy all but 
openly resented their separation. 

She wanted to use her girlish skill in helping 
the newly-found friends adjust their difficulties. 
It was Patsy’s prerogative to work out mys- 
terious problems. Last summer the enchanting 
months spent in California (Patsy Carroll in the 
Golden West) , were repleat with such adventures 
as always crowded the heels of the Wayfarers. 
The untangling then of the mystery surround- 
ing the lost ‘‘movie baby,” the Pearl of the Pa- 
cific, had kept the group alert with thrilling action 
all through their vacation, and now in New Eng- 
land, where the Tercentenary was unfolding the 


m OLD NEW ENGLAND 


emblazoned pages of American history, this girl 
felt the call of Priscilla, the Puritan maid of 
sturdy, heroic mold, who fought nature itself to 
help establish these self-same little homes, with 
their territorial lines and limits. 

And it was a homestead claim that now threat- 
ened the happiness of the two friends she had 
coincidentally met, in the very first lap of her 
New England journey ! 

Neither the joking of her companions, nor the 
possibility of unwarranted interference on her 
part, would intimidate the valiant Patsy. 

“Did you answer Torry Brandon’s letter, 
Pat?” asked Bee out of a clear sky, when a trolley 
ride to the seaside was being arranged for the 
evening. 

“Whatever made you think of that now?” asked 
Patsy, smiling into the ever dependable eyes of 
this prudent Beatrice Forbes. 

“Some little string keeps tugging in their di- 
rection,” Bee admitted. “For romance sake we 
might attribute it to an interest in a very hand- 
some boy, but you and I know better. It was 
not hard to read distress behind his brave smile, 
nor to interpret its effect on the pathetic Beth. 
There,” she finished flushing a little, “I rarely go 
so strong, do I, dear? Must be something pow- 


PATSY CARROLL 


erful, indeed, to give me such eloquence.” She 
donned her prettiest, jade-green sweater, and 
tucked her arm in Patsy’s, following Aunt 
Martha and the Perry girls out the drive to the 
trolley line at a near-by corner. 

“I know I’m very silly,” confessed Patsy, ‘‘but 
I feel as if something is going to happen. There ! 
I’ve broken my resolution. I determined to pay 
no attention to such foolish superstition, but you 
know. Bee, I told Cyrus, the gardener, that a 
hawk flew down to get something from my hand, 
and he declared the hawk was warning me of a 
friend’s danger!” Patsy laughed lightly, and 
quickened her steps, for the others were already 
hailing a car. 

“It wasn’t the hawk, or even Cyrus’s words, 
Patsy. It’s your natural feeling of interest in 
the Brandons. Glad I’m not alone in my morbid 
imaginings — ^misery still loves her old friend 
company, you see,” finished Bee. 

The car was quickly filled with summer folks 
bound for an open air performance in a little 
park, developed as a private enterprise, and con- 
sidered one of the attractions of the beach front. 
It was but a short run, but the early nightfall 
clothed the hills and cliffs with soft, hazy shad- 
ows, and the full beauty of a Massachusetts eve- 


m OLD NEW ENGLAND 


^153 


ning along its rock-pillared coast, gave the hour 
a delightful sanctuary — like an isolated spot on 
Time’s broad and variable panorama. 

I Perhaps never before had so many visitors 
come to the Plymouths. The Tercentenary cele- 
bration at Provincetown, and the expected winter 
celebration at Plymouth proper, had stirred up 
national interest, and the wave of social pros- 
perity, following the close of the world’s war, 
added possibility to zest, until Americans from 
many quarters descended upon the historic ter- 
ritory. 

It was this same loyalty of spirit that brought 
the Wayfarers thence, and to-night, out against 
a big rock, where a few trees defied the saline 
earth’s poisons for their roots, a little play was 
staged under the sky, in an ingeniously-con- 
structed open air theatre. 

There was a rush for seats as the car stopped. 

“You girls go along and save a place for me,” 
directed Aunt Martha. “Don’t get too far down 
near the Rock. It might be damp there.” 

Mabel stayed with Miss Carroll, while the 
others attempted to follow the orders to get 
seats. 

“Here we are,” announced Eleanor, reaching 
|i row unfilled, “all four together.” She asserted 


154 


PATSY CARROLL 


a personal claim by trying to hold the seats until 
the others should reach them. Patsy and Bee 
waited a few moments in front of the popular 
benches, and presently all were comfortably 
seated. 

“Isn’t this lovely?” softly whispered Aunt 
Martha. 

The actors in their rocky rendezvous were mak- 
ing ready. Lights were flickering up, here and 
there, and on the big canvas screen, preliminary 
flashes in the way of local advertisements were 
being thrown, for the entertainment of the visi- 
tors. 

In the seats directly in front of the Wayfarers 
was a group of girls, evidently from Boston. 
They chatted freely of the vacation opportunities, 
some praising, others discounting the published 
attractions, but all seemingly content to “stay 
out the time” allowed them as vacation from their 
business in the big Hub city. 

“We’re going to Provincetown,” said one, 
whose face was hidden in the darkness. “Bell 
and I are going to help with some private deco- 
rating.” 

Patsy nudged Bee. “That sounds like — the 
girl in the Boston store, the one who sold the 
men’s hose,” Patsy whispered, referring to the 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


^55 


girl whose conversation about “Torry” and his 
sister had caught the ears of the Wayfarers in 
their visit to Boston. 

“Yes,” agreed Bee, “it is. I see the nose.” 

The peculiar characteristic of this young 
woman was her very prominent, sharp nose, which 
the girls had commented upon, and which feature, 
coupled with a stinging voice, had earned for her 
the pseudonym of “Wasp.” Patsy and Bee both 
involuntarily leaned forward now, as these 
strangers exchanged loudly and freely their opin- 
ions of the surrounding summer places. 

“How long you goin’ to be down the Cape?” 
another asked, in reply to the remark about Prov- 
incetown. 

“Can’t exactly tell,” came the answer. “You 
know our handsome coz, Torry” (with a drawling 
of scorn through the “handsome”), “he’s got 
somethin’ on we’re bound to shut off. Grand- 
father’s property, you know. Well,” (an ef- 
fective pause), he ain’t goin’ to close any deal 
jest now, while Millie and me are awake, an’ that 
may change plans some!” 

Mabel and Eleanor had caught in on the con- 
versation. The evident security of that open, 
public place rang out in confidence, as the clerks 
chatted on, and not the slightest attempt was 


156 


PATSY CARROLL 


made to disguise the facts they were thus vocally 
publishing. 

The Wayfarers were looking at the stage but 
listening to this conversation. Patsy was so alert 
she failed to hear a question put by Aunt Martha, 
but Bee answered it for her. 

“Ain’t that fellar handsome, though?” put 
in a girl with enormous ear puffs. Again she 
referred to Torry. The light spotted her from 
a tree-lamp. “I seen him at a Cattle Show once, 
an’ his sister, too, is awful pretty.” 

“He’s handsome, but like the rest of that 
kind, wasteful,” replied the Wasp. “He thinks 
money’s coined to gild his sister with, and to help 
him fly around college. His sister had a stroke, 
you know?” 

“Nol Not that, young girl?” 

“She ain’t so young — near as old as Millie. 
But she had it anyway. Thought she’d die, but 
he has her in Boston now for treatment. You 

see ” the heads went together this time as the 

real kernel of the secret seemed imminent. A few 
moments of intense whispering, and the heads 
separated again. 

“I don’t blame you a bit,” agreed the ear- 
puffed girl. 

“But it’s a little risky,” commented the younger 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


^S7 


sister of the sharp-nosed one. “Bell takes a lot 
of chances, I think.” 

“Better’n losin’ a lot of cost,” came back the 
other. “But, say I look at that picture! Sup- 
posed to be the old Pilgrims landing.” She 
“tee-hee-ed” outright. “Looks like a clam-bake 
party at the Point.” 

“Sure does! There’s old Patches and the 
Colonel. Look-it the painters’ outfit.” 

“Shssh! That’s Capt’n Standish. Look’t the 
college cap and the Brown boys’ mackinaw. You 

know they wear them at Brown injected the 

girl on the end of the line. 

A gentleman who had been fidgeting, and 
plainly trying to subdue the noisy, irreverent 
ones, now turned squarely upon them. 

“If you girls don’t care for this, you had best 
leave,” he told them sharply. “That’s a picture 
of the Forefathers, and it isn’t put up there for 
youngsters to ridicule.” 

A sudden irrepressible titter swept over the 
accused group. Then, feeling the anger of many 
near them, they chocked back the objectionable 
mirth and sank deep into the straw-cushioned 
benches. Patsy had scarcely noticed what was 
passing on the screen, and Bee was no more in- 
terested. Both having “premonitory creeps” 


158 


PATSY CARROLL 


just before leaving for the Park, and each having 
expressed the belief that “something was due to 
happen,” caused both to feel now that this chance 
conversation furnished their clue. 

The moon had risen, and was “peeking” in 
through the trees, when a girl in Priscilla garb 
very primly stepped in front of the canvas, and 
recited “The Courtship of Miles Standish.” She 
evidently was a well-trained girl, perhaps from 
some local high school, for her young voice was 
well-rounded and softly modulated, yet it sought 
out every listener in the little assemblage. At 
finishing she received the applause due her earn- 
est effort, and gracefully took an encore. 

“Sweet!” commented Aunt Martha. 

“Lovely!” agreed Patsy, won at last to atten- 
tion for the performance. 

A brief intermission afforded those in the next 
bench chance to speak again, defiantly, if not 
really antagonistically. 

“Let’s know how it comes off. Bell,” said one. 
“And give us an invite if you have Torry over for 
a week-end.” 

“No danger! He hates us like poison,” came 
the answer. “But jest you wait’n see! Pa says 
I’ve got the best nose fer business in the hull 
family, an’ now’s the time to prove it,” and “the 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


159 


girl with the nose” shamelessly gulped down that 
negative compliment. 

“Ah, let’s go,” suggested the girl near the end. 
“This is no good. There’s dancin’ down at the 
beach. Come on!” 

“Hmry, they’re startin’ and we’ll get ragged 
if we — ^interrupt,” voiced the Wasp, as the un- 
popular party shuffled out of the seats and down 
the steps covering the handsome old patient rocks, 
off the beautiful bay-washed beach. 

“They’re gone!” said Eleanor in relief. 

“Such rude girls,” whispered Aunt Martha, 
ignorant of the clues they had dropped on Patsy’s 
tingling ears. 

“Don’t mention it to the girls,” the latter whis- 
pered to Beatrice significantly. “We must try to 
follow them up.” 

“Not easy,” was all Beatrice could answer, 
for now the entertainment was over, and there 
was a grand rush for the outgoing trolley. 


CHAPTER XIV, 

PILGRIMS AND WAYFARERS 

Bee, I’m so excited!” declared 

I I Patsy next day, dragging her com- 
panion down to the seat by the side of 
the memorable pond, to escape from Mab and 
Nell with her newly-confirmed suspicions. 
“Those girls are plotting something desperate. 
And of course it has to do with that old property 
matter. How do you suppose we can get around 
giving that information to Torry?” 

“I can’t see a way, unless you write him 
frankly, and ask him to meet us some place,” 
suggested Bee. 

“Oh, Bee!” and Patsy struggled with a blush. 
“That would seem — queer,” she faltered. 

“Not if we told him it was about an important 
matter.” 

“But I should have to tell Aunt Martha. I 
160 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


i6i 


wouldn’t meet a young man without her permis- 
sion.” 

“Oh, I know that, Pat,” it was Bee’s turn to 
flush, “but couldn’t we manage it?” 

“I’m just thinking in circles, it seems to me,” 
admitted Patsy. “I don’t believe that type of 
girl is so much dangerous as she is foolish, but I 
didn’t like that spell of whispering.” 

“And the other’s remark about it being risky,” 
added Bee. They were seated now in a flat- 
bottom rowboat that always stood at the shore, 
but never seemed to be used for rowing. 

“We wouldn’t need to worry so, perhaps, for 
property is only property after all,” reflected the 
alert Patsy, “but in Beth’s condition even a slight 
shock would be dreadful.” 

“Yes, that’s the first consideration. Then 
there’s Torry’s college year, and he’s just started. 
I tell you, little Red Head,” with an affectionate 
droop of her own brown head on Patsy’s con- 
venient shoulder, “this is rather important field 
work in our Social Service.” 

“Does this come under Social Service? I 
thought it was only in helping — ^more needy 
cases.” 

“Indeed, it does,” replied the student. “Family 
case-work has no limitations, and this may mean 


i 62 


PATSY CARROLL 


the keeping together of a most important type 
of family — ^two lone, big children.” 

“Oh, my, how lovely I I mean how nice that 
our work can be standardized. I have to write up 
the entire case, I suppose,” and she laughed 
lightly. 

“Yes, that’s essential. But I wouldn’t leave 
the notebook around for the babes. By the way, 
they seem to be having a wonderful time out 
here. I think it’s an unmitigated blessing to 
have such simple, childish faith in human nature 
as those children have. All they need is a few 
nicely-dressed, good-mannered individuals to 
lavish their charms upon. They’re off at tennis 
now, I suppose, and will be back by eleven, drum- 
ming us up for the swim. Isn’t Mab just darling 
in that new outing suit? The foliage-green on 
the white serge makes a blossom of her.” 

“You have an eye. Bee,” said Patsy, reverting 
to the newly acquired ISTew England habit of 
leaving off the “eye for what?” It was an attrac- 
tive little trick, and she played it with naive 
charm. “Now, I like Nell’s marigold equally 
well,” added Patsy. “I think that yellow serge 
is just as pretty, and gives Nell such a glow.” 

“Too bad they can’t add your compliment,” 
teased Bee. “I donT see but what you look 


m OLD NEW ENGLAND 


163 

pretty nice in that glorious Roman stripe. And 
it won’t soil.” 

“Permit me,” mocked Patsy, touching the 
true-blue tennis skirt of Beatrice. “There is 
nothing more correct, nor more attractive, than 
this,” and she smiled so comprehensively that the 
look seemed to include the universe. 

“All of which is neither here nor there on our 
mystery of the salesladies’ duplicity. I couldn’t 
very well run in the department; men’s hose is so 
prosaic,” she deplored. 

“And from last accounts they’ve gone into the 
home-decorating. Don’t you remember they said 
they were down here to help with some private 
work, out around Provincetown?” 

“Yes, but what could those girls do at deco- 
rating?” scoffed Patsy. 

“Unroll the bunting. Or they might hold the 
tacks-^ ” 

“In their mouths, I fancy,” and this thought 
turned on the laughter tap for both ebullient 
Patsy and serious Bee. Visions of those two 
country girls, with their arms full of bunting and 
mouths full of tacks, fairly convulsed the delib- 
erators until it seemed that the staid old flat- 
bottomed “Turtle” rocked its side in good fel- 
lowship. 


1 64 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Whatever could they intend to do?” Patsy 
brought up when the “meat of their laughter” 
was fully digested. 

“That’s one of the privileges denied us, Pat 
dear. We can’t see into others’ brains, nor even 
guess what is going on in such peculiar brains 
as the little clerks seem infested with. But shall 
we write Torry? That’s the point at issue,” de- 
clared Bee, smoothing the little locks of curly 
brown hair that tried to follow the breeze, in spite 
of her combs and numerous pins. 

“Yes, Bee. I couldn’t take the responsibility 
of knowing that those youngsters are plotting 
against Beth, without letting him know. We 
couldn’t possibly worry Beth with business, and 
if we were to tell this lovely little Aunt Abbie, 
whom Torry told us about, she might mention it 
to Beth. The only safe way, of course, is to 
write him,” decided Patsy, jabbing on her bril- 
liant head the hawk-protecting cap, while both 
girls prepared to answer the call from Mab now 
running down the little hill. 

Along the west coast of Plymouth, on Cape 
Cod Bay, are many fashionable summer places, 
while Rocky Point — one of the little jetties that 
fringe the coast — is, perhaps, the most cosmo- 
politan. Looking north, the Gurnet with its 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


165 


dazzling- white Twin Lights, offers a never-failing 
magnet for the strangers who answer the lure of 
quaint Cape Cod. 

On the Plymouth Beach our friends were en- 
joying the finest sort of bathing, for what water 
is equal to the salt of the bay basin? And what 
flow of gentle tide affords better actual swim- 
ming? 

Even Aunt Martha, in her neat little alpaca 
suit, tried out a few long-neglected strokes, while 
the girls just reveled in the “overhand, the crawl 
stroke, breast stroke,’’ and their variations, not 
omitting the mermaid dives from springboards 
and dock ends. 

Mabel and Eleanor were delighting in races 
with girls from the Inn, while Patsy and Bee 
devoted themselves to the more entertaining ele- 
ment — little children in their tiny togs which 
made them look like living Kewpies as they tum- 
bled on the sands and dared the playful wavelets 
to touch their pink “toesies.” 

Bathing hour, always short, seemed clipped off 
without full measure to-day, for the water was 
delightful, the air caressed like a breeze from a 
feathery fan, and the sky seemed an inverted 
spectacular of indescribable pageantry. 

There were but fifteen minutes of time left 


PATSY CARROLL 


i66 


when Nell came in on a wave, and then promptly 
collected the girls. 

“I almost forgot,” she announced, wringing 
out her dripping little skirt. “I learned a lot 
about the Pilgrims and their first trip in these 
waters. Do all come and sit down to dry off, 
while I speak my piece,” and Nellie picked up 
dimples in her smile. 

“Dedigh-ted!” cried out Patsy. “Ac a matter 
of fact, Nell, I feel rather guilty in neglecting 
the historical part. We have just time to hear 
your declamation. Let ’er go!” and Patsy 
stretched out in the sand at Aunt Martha’s laced- 
up shoes. 

“Now please don’t make me laugh,” begged 
the self-appointed orator, “I’m going to begin at 
Provincetown Harbor, directly opposite us.” 

“That’s lovely,” ventured Patsy, but Bee 
clapped a damp hand over the tittering mouth. 

Nellie began again. “Coasting along the side 
of Cape Cod at the right ” 

“Who ?” It was Patsy questioning, half -mock- 
ingly. 

“The Forefathers in their shallop from the 
Mayflower,” from the indignant Nell. 

“Oh,” a mere general underbreath. 

“Some of the exploring party on foot— ^ — ” 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


167 


The wild laugh and rolling in the sand would 
have discouraged a less courageous narrator, but 
Nell adjusted her story, and declared that too 
much talking had driven her ashore. 

“Well, anyway,” she insisted, “some of the par- 
ty waded through half-frozen waters, I couldn’t — 

forget that ” Again the dimples played. 

“And now, please, listen. Mab, do stop digging 
your toes ! I can’t keep my own still ” 

“Nellie, dear, what about the wading party?” 

“Oh, yes. Aunt Martha,” Nell sat up straight 
in the solid sunshine. “I’m glad you like my 
history. They waded through the half-frozen 
water, through the surf or across brooks, slowly 
making their way to land. Constantly alert, and 
often attacked by their enemies, the Indians, you 
know, the shallop now with all the party aboard, 
was rowed back from where they had made their 
personal explorations, I suppose,” she inter- 
jected. “And they now near Manomet Point. 
That’s just there, where all this happened!” 

All eyes scanned the beach down past Rocky 
Point and White Horse Beach. Manomet Point 
is the next little nose of land that pokes itself 
into the bay. They regarded it attentively. 

“Go on, Nell, you’re doing beautifully,” de- 
clared Patsy. “We must have an evening of 


PATSY CARROLL 


1 68 


fun before we leave Plymouth, and we will surely 
make you our Burton Holmes.” 

Nell jumped up and perched herself on the 
highest of a group of rocks. She waved a hand 
grandly out toward the old bay unspoiled by 
historic flattery. 

“It begins to snow,” said Nellie, and Patsy 
swallowed some sand in choking back a pardon- 
able hot-day laugh. “And rain, and the winds 
blow up an angry sea. The hinge of the rudder 
breaks — the shallop’s rudder, you know, and oars 
must steer the heavy craft.” 

“I recall that page in history,” remarked Aunt 
Martha gravely. “I have often thought of the 
anguish that hour must have brought to the Pil- 
grims.” 

Thus encouraged, Nell bit her lip to prompt 
memory, and bravely proceeded: 

“Pressing on with their oars, the shivering 
party are all but discouraged when Master Cop- 
pin, the pilot, bids them be of good cheer, for he 
sees the harbor he had promised them.” 

“Three cheers for Master Coppin,” voiced 
Beatrice. “But don’t let us interrupt you, Nell,” 
with a sly tone and a playful thrust of tiny 
shells. 

“I won’t,” agreed the elocutionist. “Across 




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IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


169 


the bay they drive,” she raised her voice till others 
about her listened; “keeping on good sail to 
reach the harbor before night-fall, when crash 
goes the mast !” (the young voice rang out bravely 
now) “broken into three pieces, and the shallop 
is all hut wrecked.” 

She paused, and her audience breathed deeply. 
After all, this was a fitting tribute to that event- 
ful pilgrimage, and the Wayfarers were not alone 
in their attentive attitude of admiration. 

“Go on,” urged Aunt Martha gently. 

“I couldn’t forget what happened,” said loyal 
little Nell, “but I may be off on the wording. 

“A flood tide lifted them and swung them in 
past the Gurnet’s nose, — see the Gurnet?” she 
pointed to the rocky headland. “And Master 
Coppin, finding himself in a strange place, threw 
up his hands and cried out: ‘The Lord be merci- 
ful to us. I never saw this place before.’ ” 

“And he almost drove them in on the rocks,” 
assisted Eleanor. 

“Yes, he would have, hut for a seaman who 
ordered them to turn, if they were men, and next 
thing they found themselves under the lee of a 
small island just before nightfall. There it is, 
the third highland to the left, the first is Gurnet, 
the second Saquaish and the third is — I suppose 


170 


PATSY CARROLL 


that’s Clark’s Island or very near it, where they 
spent the first Sabbath, before coming out again 
across the bay and landing on Plymouth Rock. 
There,” finished Nell, her cheeks burning from 
more than the sun’s rays, ‘T was so fascinated by 
that part of the old Bradford history I just 
memorized it. So many people talk of the land- 
ing, but I don’t believe many take the trouble 
to read it up,” she declared, with wisdom only 
accounted for by the tinge of romance that per- 
meated the Pilgrim’s history. 

“Eleanor Perry, you’re a perfect — ^brick !” de- 
clared Patsy enthusiastically, “beside which I fall 
to common sand in comparison.” 

“I was thrilled,” acclaimed Bee. 

“And I was astounded,” declared the sister 
Mab. “I am going to have you give that all 
over again when we get home. It’s just splen- 
did!” 

And wasn’t it, really? 

But Patsy and Bee could not give entire atten- 
tion to the Mayflower story; they had the more 
pressing issue of Beth Brandon’s safety to con- 
template. 

“I’ll write the letter directly after lunch,” 
whispered Patsy, giving her head a wild shake 
after removing the pond-lily rubber cap, “and 


7 N OLD 'NEW ENGLAND 171 

woe be unto you, Beatrice Forbes, if your advice 
leads me into trouble.” 

“I’ll stand for the woe,” agreed Beatrice, “but 
I would never stand for shirking.” 

“Me, nuther,” flashed Patsy, and the ringing 
of the lunch bell brought all the Wayfarers back 
again to things mundane. 


CHAPTER XV 


PEOVINCETOWN EN FETE 
S must happen to all travellers, and the 



Wayfarers were of the ‘‘roadster type,” 


^ many important events were precipitated 
through correspondence, and when, a day or two 
before their outset for the Provincetown cele- 
bration, they received a letter from Roily’s 
mother, their plans for the summer camp at an 
old Massachusetts town were quickly settled. 

But not without some disappointment. 

“We can’t even get that homestead,” groaned 
Bee. “Did you ever see such luck?” 

“But, my dear,” reasoned Aunt Martha. “ You 
have no idea what a demand there is for summer 
places. And the one that Mrs. Sherman can get 
may even be better than the other,” she con- 
soled. 

“Just fancy,” put in Patsy, whose face was 
alight with pleasurable anticipation, “this is one 


172 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


173 


of the two old places, and the old men who owned 
them were just like brothers. Except that Mrs. 
Sherman was employed in the one, I can’t see 
what difference there could possibly be. Besides, 
she tells us the available place has no-end of 
berries, all kinds. Bee, and you may just camp 
in a berry patch over night to be handy for 
breakfast. I vote we tell Mrs. Sherman we’ll 
take that place for the month of August, and 
that we get the agent’s name, quickly, and mail 
him a check on deposit, before someone else comes 
along and swoops down in our apple-tree ham- 
mocks. I’m just crazy for that old place, and 
if it were not for the actual obligation of paying 
tribute to our forefathers, by attending the Prov- 
incetown celebration, I would feel like running 
out there, right now.” 

“Shall we be near the water?” ventured 
Mab. 

“Yes, there’s little Assonet Bay, which is fed 
by the Taunton River, and intakes of salt water 
all the way from the ocean,” said Patsy. “And 
Mrs. Sherman told me and Bee, when we were 
out there, that the place often echoes Indian war 
whoops when the wind is high, or something like 
that,” she amended, affecting a more truthful and 
literal tone. 


174 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Yes, Patsy,” decided Aunt Martha. “Since 
I have seen Mrs. Sherman, I feel she is just the 
woman we need, and this place is only a hundred 
and fifty dollars for the month, with the garden 
and fruit. I really think it is quite a discovery 
and agree with you that we should take it.” 

“So do I,” chimed in Nell, “and I vote for the 
berry patch. Any strawberries ?” 

“Not specified, but probable,” replied Patsy. 
“IVe heard tell that ‘strawberries from them 
parts is right smart vic’tles, an’ shouldn’t wonder 
but we cud sell ’em out ter market.’ ” Patsy 
twanged this beautifully, but it fell a little short 
on accent. 

“We’ll take your word fer it, Cy,” replied Bee, 
“ ‘an’ if crops is good, shouldn’t wonder but 
we’ed make somethin’, seein’ as how this here 
year is a good ’un fer garden stuff.’ ” 

“Me an’ S’amathy here’ll guve yu’ a hand any 
time on’ the medder’,” struggled Nell. “ ‘T’aint 
s’long since we was a’milkin’ an’ a’ potatoein’, 
an’ a hoein’ things a’long of a piece o’land out 
by Tiverton,’ ” she ended, with a merry chuckle 
that did more than the words to make the frantic 
effort effective. 

“Good idee to sign contracts ahead of time,” 
suggested Patsy. “I cal’alate it’s a sight easier 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


175 


to eat berries ’n’ ’tis t’ peddle ’em. S’manthy” 
(to Mab), “s’pose you write out a paper, puttin’ 
thet there offer down in black an’ white. Then 
we’ll heve suthin’ to go by when we light on thet 
there berry patch.” 

“Oh, let’s,” exclaimed Mabel. “Let’s draw 
up a contract, each taking over certain 
duties ” 

“Better wait until we see the lay of the land,” 
advocated Patsy. “It may be a swamp that 
raises nothing but pussy-willows and skunk cab- 
bage; then what?” 

So the reply of acceptance was sent to Mrs. 
Sherman, and the girls now felt that every day 
of their precious vacation had been assigned to 
its possible programme of joy and adventure. 

Patsy and Bee waited anxiously for the reply 
from Torry. Very carefully Patsy had worded 
her letter to him, merely saying that she would 
like to see him very soon on an important busi- 
ness matter, and that it was not in reference to 
securing the old place as a camp, for she realized 
the impossibility of such arrangements. She 
added that they had taken a place which she 
hoped would be equally as attractive. This letter 
went off before the answer to Mrs. SEerman, but 
at its sending both Patsy and Bee decided the 


PATSY CARROLL 


Sherman place should be taken, and that it did 
offer some alluring attractions. 

When the answer came it was not from Torry. 
It was merely a very polite line from Miss Abbie 
Truesdale, written on her own finely-mono- 
grammed paper, and it briefly stated that Mr. 
Brandon was in Boston, and was not expected 
back for some days. 

Bee and Patsy swallowed hard, and made wry 
faces in appreciation of this. There was ap- 
pended a line referring to Beth’s improvement, 
but with it came a hint. It was this : 

“While she is much stronger, her brother is 
most anxious that no thought of business shall 
distress her, so I have not mentioned the arrival 
of your note. I am merely answering from the 
outside address given, surmising the message 
within may relate to business.” 

“Smart old lady,” commented Patsy. “How- 
ever did she guess?” 

As if this particular day brought a bargain 
in the mail bag, there was also a long letter from 
Patsy’s father, and this conveyed the news that 
he might join them in August, if his old friend 
Judge Davis could arrange a fishing “spree.” 

Patsy danced in delight at this. 

“I know where there are more fishes than those 


IN OLD NEW. ENGLAND 


177 


counted in the Bible story,” she declared. ‘‘The 

water is solid with them, but ” her face fell, 

“that’s a fishing school — I mean a school fishery, 
or whatever they call the farm that the govern- 
ment takes care of to raise fish on. And, of 
course, no one is allowed to fish there.” 

“,You mean out Taunton way, where the her- 
rings run, don’t you, Pat?” asked Mab. “I 
heard the fish out there were, as you say, just 
solid. We ought to go see them.” 

“But they don’t run at all seasons,” interposed 
Aunt Martha. “I think it is in early summer 
and spring when that sight is featured. How- 
ever, I am sure Judge Davis will arrange a fine 
fishing trip for Robert, and it will he wonderful 
to have him near our camp for a while.” 

“They may want to go out to Maine for some 
of the cold lake products,” demurred Patsy. 
“But we will try to fix it up with our gallant 
judge for him to find a suitable place in Massa- 
chusetts. If there are no more letters to be con- 
sidered, I move we adjourn,” she suggested. 

Provincetown is directly across the bay and 
it was on that little point of land, on the tip of 
Cade Cod, that the Pilgrims first put in before 
making their final selection of Plymouth for their 
real settlement. , The preliminary celebration of 


178 


PATSY CARROLL 


the three hundredth anniversary of the landing 
was to occur there during the summer of 1920, 
and to this the Wayfarers were preparing to set 
sail, in one of the many launches daily setting 
out from Plymouth shores. 

Again the trusty guide books were eagerly 
scanned, the success of Eleanor’s historic effort 
spurring each one on to learn the story of the 
“Shrines,” even of the Norsemen’s reported visit 
there in the year 1001 A. D., and leading up to 
the Pilgrims’ coming in 1620, in honor of whicK 
event the Tercentenary was now being celebrated. 
Each Wayfarer had her own guide book, and 
each seemed to have discovered a particular choice 
morsel of historic lore. 

It was Mab who found out that the first child 
born in New England was welcomed at Prov- 
incetown, while the Mayflower was resting there. 

Mabel waved the little book in the very faces 
of her companions, insisting they should listen 
to the fact that Peregrine White was the first 
baby of New England; but Patsy thought the 
most interesting discovery was that of the Norse- 
men’s visit to Provincetown. 

“We may see the spot at North Truro, over 
there,” she insisted, as they neared the tail of 
land. “That’s where Professor Horsford places 


IN: OLD NEW ENGLAND 


179 - 


‘Lief’s Landsfall/ and you see, Mab, your little 
pilgrim baby. Peregrine, has left no mark on any 
stone. Too bad! I think so myself.” 

They could now see the great Pilgrim Monu- 
ment of gray stone that towered high above the 
surrounding narrow landscape, and offered its 
story to the passing mariner, with that rugged 
simplicity typical of the Forefathers themselves. 

“How rich in historic shrines all the places Here- 
abouts are?” commented Bee. “If they hadn’t 
come to Provincetown, but had continued straight 
on to the west shore of the Bay, we wouldn’t have 
had this picturesque spot to visit. This is really 
Cape Cod!” 

“And the land curls up like a fish’s tail,” said 
Nellie, with a dimple or two doing reverence. 

“What sort of fish have curly tails, Nell?” in- 
quired Patsy, cruelly. 

“Eels,” chirped Nell, undaunted. 

^ As they entered, the harbor was alive witK 
craft decorated in flags and emblems, while all 
along the water’s edge the little town had taken 
on a holiday dress, fringed with the banners whose 
subjects had brought their gift of true patriotism 
to America’s shores. 

The XJnited States North Atlantic fleet as- 
sembles in the circular harbor every summer, and 


i8o 


PATSY CARROLL 


in 1920 this was augmented by visiting war-craft, 
among these Constance, of the British fleet, and 
the French cruiser, Ville d'Ys, coming into spe- 
cial prominence. 

Patsy and Bee would have enjoyed a trip to 
the Constance, which was offered as a special in- 
ducement, but Aunt Martha objected, as the 
small boats going in and out were apparently 
over-taxed in capacity; so the plan was aban- 
doned. 

“Oh, this would be just the place for daddy’s 
fishing spree,” declared Patsy, after hearing an 
old Portuguese fisherman tell of the marvels of 
the finny tribe that could be had for the dropping 
of a line. “I heard a man say,” she repeated, 
“that cod, mackerel, haddock and sea bass were 
very plentiful, and the industry of the whole place 
is that of fishing. One can easily see that.” 

“I have something to tell of this harbor,” spoke 
Mab, not to be outdone by the others in the his- 
tory fleet. “Here the first clothes were washed 
by the women from the Mayflower, while the 
men explored.” 

“There should be a model laundry hereabouts,” 
commented Patsy. “And I imagine the instinct 
for cleanliness still persists. Just look at that 
fisherman’s outfit!” 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND i8i 


They were facing “High Pole Hill,” where is 
situated the Pilgrims’ Monument, which towers 
two hundred and fifty feet above the town. The 
famous Highland light on its bluff at North 
Truro could be seen a short distance off, and of 
Long Point, at the very tip of the Cape, our 
Wayfarers had a view that included the light 
which guards the entrance to Provincetown Har- 
bor. 

Everything was festive and gala, as it was but 
two days before that the celebration proper had 
been ushered in with a stirring religious pageant, 
corresponding to the spirit of the Pilgrims them- 
selves, who were wont, always, to put the service 
of the Master first, and thus dedicate their own 
welfare to the Cause that carries His sacred ban- 
ner. 

There was much to see, but more to feel, and 
neither feature was wasted in its emotional effect 
upon the Wayfarers. 

Perhaps it was the quaintness of it all that 
offered the strongest appeal. There were the 
school girls in their dainty little Puritan garb — 
Priscillas everywhere, and the white-stockinged, 
buckle-shoed boys, some with make-believe mus- 
kets acting as guards, and others with the pic- 
turesque broad-brimmed hats, and even velvet 


i 82 


PATSY CARROLL 


costumes, soft as those of modem knights of the 
drama, and far more effective than modern 
gorgeousness, with the ruffs and belts. It was 
all a beautiful spectacle, indeed, and required 
little more than the costuming for its effect, for 
was not the spirit of the entry to Provincetown 
still there, engraven on the rocks, written on the 
sands, and pictured in the clouds? 

“We must find the Norsemen’s spot, wherever 
North Truro is,” declared Patsy, when many 
little shops had been visited, quaint souvenirs 
bought, and the Wayfarers’ hearts satisfied with 
local sight-seeing. Everything was stamped 
“Pilgrim,” “Puritan” or “Mayflower.” Patsy 
rejoiced in a Cape Cod fire-lighter, a brass 
tankard, with brass tray and the torch which is 
the “lighter” when immersed in inflamable oil. 

Mabel and Eleanor secured an old bellows 
which, they were sure would delight the hearts 
of the folks at home, while Bee, the studious, 
bought some quaint pictures and some dainty 
little booklets to give as souvenirs to her mother 
and intimate friends “out home.” 

“We could spend days around here and yet 
keep on seeing things,” remarked Mabel, who 
was plainly delighted with the big, general holi- 
day that swayed natives and visitors alike. 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


x83 


In front of one of the stores an auto had 
stopped, just as our girls were passing along. 

“Look, Bee,” said Patsy quietly, “there are 
the sales girls!” 

Turning, both almost faced the girls first seen 
in Boston, and again at the open air theatre out 
Plymouth way. Both stepped from the car and 
quickly entered a store, in front of which fruits 
and vegetables were displayed. 

With wondering glances, Patsy and her party 
continued on their way, and it was a full hour 
later, just before time to take the boat back 
across the bay, that something startling hap- 
pened, and recalled the presence of these girls 
in Provincetown. 

They were all standing on the wharf, waiting 
for the boat, when, to their intense surprise, Torry 
Brandon rushed up to them. He scarcely greeted 
them before he exclaimed: 

“Have you seen Beth anywhere? I am almost 
frantic looking for her!” 

“Beth!” came a chorus. 

“Yes, something very alarming has happened. 
Aunt Abbie didn’t know the importance of hav- 
ing Beth stay with her, and I didn’t want to 
worry Beth with business, but the fact is, we 
will ” he hesitated, then continued, “we may 


PATSY CARROLL 


184 

lose a splendid chance, unless I can get Beth to 
sign this paper in time for me to return it to the 
attorney to-night.” 

He held a packet in his hand, and it was evi- 
dent the young man was laboring under great 
anxiety. 

Aunt Martha murmured her consideration, but 
it was Patsy and Bee who sensed a possible solu- 
tion to the mystery. 

It took but a few seconds to impart this sus- 
picion to the excited Torry Brandon. 


CHAPTER XVI 


BETH Brandon’s rescue 

J UST how Patsy pieced together that story, 
and gave its summary to the astonished 
and frightened Torry, would not be easy to 
recount, but, with her indomitable spirit, she did 
surmount the difficulty. 

Standing on the pier, his handsome face flushed 
and his agitation refusing to subside, Torry heard 
from Patsy’s lips the suspicion first gleaned in 
the Boston department store, when these two 
strange girls made slighting remarks betraying 
deep-set antagonism to someone named as 
“Torry” and associated with “Beth.” 

Further, both Bee and Patsy told of the actual 
threat overheard in the open air theatre, when 
these same girls freely discussed, with a number 
of companions, something mysterious they in- 
tended to do to prevent something else mys- 
terious from being accomplished. 


i86 


PATSY CARROLL 


“That’s it,” said Torry anxiously. “I see the 
trick, now! These girls knew this paper had to 
be signed to-day, and they deliberately planned 
to take Beth off, out of my reach until the time 
expired.” 

“But why did Miss Truesdell let her go with 
known enemies?” asked Aunt Martha quite rea- 
sonably. 

“The girls tactfully paved the way,” replied 
the young man, while his eyes wandered search- 
ingly over parties swarming about. “They came 
first and spent an afternoon at our stopping place. 
Everything was pleasant, I suppose, as they could 
pretend it to be, and Beth is so forgiving and so 
trustful. But think of that frail girl being out 
so long!” he broke off anxiously. “We only 
stopped off here for a few days, just to give her 
a chance to see the celebration.” He sighed first, 
then threw up his head in brave boyish fashion. 
“But I’m going to find her if she is in Province- 
town ! Of course our financial loss is a mere sec- 
ondary consideration. It’s Beth that counts.” 

“Let me help,” begged Patsy. “I will leave 
Auntie and one or two of the girls some place 
where they can be comfortable, while Bee and I, 
and either Eleanor or Mab, can take a cab and 
search.” 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


187 


‘‘Thanks ! I’m sure that will help,” said Torry 
eagerly. ‘T am greatly worried about Beth. 
She never could stand these motor-boats. Sup- 
pose I get a launch and scour around, while you 
try the streets?” 

“Yes, I think that a good plan,” agreed Patsy 
with increasing agitation. “I’ll just get that car 
over there, and go directly to the fruit store. If 
they ordered anything delivered, we may trace 
them in that way.” 

Then began the search. Torry was soon seen 
racing over the waters of Cape Cod Bay, in a 
little launch he hired from a willing boatman, 
while Patsy and Bee were in the red-striped auto, 
pointing out to the driver such streets as they 
wished to survey. 

That they had been correct in their surmise of 
the salesgirls’ duplicity was only too evident, but 
the danger to Beth, so lately recovered from her 
serious condition, obscured all other thoughts or 
considerations, as they rushed on through the 
crowded streets, hoping against hope, to discover 
the car in which the fugitive might be riding. 

Torry had furnished Patsy with the family 
name of these girls, given as Drake, so that it was 
for a Miss Drake she inquired at the fruit store. 

“Xes,” replied the man. “I sent some fruit 


i88 


PATSY CARROLL 


to Miss Drake, yistiddy, and she came in and 
fetched more herself to-day. Let me see, Tod,” 
to his helper, ‘‘whereabouts was that you took 
them there peaches?” 

“Which peaches?” asked Tod, dropping an en- 
tire measure of fruit back into a big basket, lest 
he confuse the orders. He was paying attention 
to the boss just now. 

“Salt mackeral! Can’t you think and hold 
things to onct?” demanded the proprietor. 
“Couple of yachtmen’s awaiting for thet order! 
But listen, now you’re out of it. Recollect — two 
girls comes in here buyin’ peaches, an’ biddin’ 
down fer them? Alius want another piled on an’ 
a cent took off I Had a swampy tone o’ voice, like 
they live out Boston way? Yes, I see you do re- 
call! \Yell, that’s them. Where do they put up? 
Where’d you fetch the last bargain of peaches 
to?” 

Patsy and Bee could scarcely keep still during 
this foolish and time-wasting monologue, but as 
to hurrying the man! They knew better. Fi- 
nally direction was given by Tod, and eagerly 
accepted by Patsy and Bee, they in turn quickly 
relaying it to their waiting driver. 

But although the boarding place was found 
easily enough, it was not to be expected that the 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


189 


Misses Drake would be there at that hour of the 
afternoon. 

They had gone ‘‘auto-mo-heel ridin’ ” accord- 
ing to the prim little landlady, and “they took 
their meals out,” so she couldn’t say when they 
would he hack. 

“Do you happen to know what garage they 
hired their car from?” Patsy asked, clinging to a 
feeble straw of hope. 

“Well, yes, seems to me I did notice that car,” 
replied the landlady. “I’m sure I saw Clem 
Trivet on the front seat a-drivin’. Clem has a 
place over near the Point,” and she gave direc- 
tions to he followed for reaching it. “You may 
find out something over there. [Anybody took 
sick? What’s the perticular matter?” she asked, 
not unreasonably. 

“We are in a hurry to reach a friend who must 
catch a train,” replied Bee, already down the 
three narrow steps and heading for the auto at 
the gate. 

“Want t’ know!” they heard the surprised and 
curious little woman exclaim as they hurried off. 

“Here y’u are,” their driver announced after 
showing how his car could run when occasion 
called for speed. “This here is Clem’s shop.” 

Patsy sprang out and made a quick survey of 


190 


PATSY CARROLL 


the garage. It was partly wood, evidently a big 
barn originally, but was strengthened and made 
fire-resisting in spots with concrete runs and 
floors, while metal frames arched a good-sized 
door, under which, just now, a car could be seen 
standing. 

“I think that’s the car,” Patsy said to Bee, as 
both made their way in at its side. 

Voices further strengthened this supposition, 
for girls were undoubtedly waiting in the car 
while some repairs were being made, and dodging 
in past oil cans and hose attachments, the next 
moment Patsy and Bee confronted the girl “Bell” 
on the front seat, while the other sister, Millie, and 
yes — that was Beth ensconced in the rear! 

“Beth!” exclaimed Patsy eagerly, almost for- 
getting the importunity of her quest, in the joy 
of meeting Beth Brandon. 

“Oh, Patsy!” called back the girl from the 
car. “However did you get here?” 

“Looking for a little runaway,” replied Patsy, 
determined now to make all possible speed to ful- 
fill her promise to Torry. “Beth, do come in our 
car. Your brother is most anxiously waiting and 
hunting for you. He must leave this town very 
shortly and 

“She’ll do nothing of the kind,” came a sharp 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


121 

retort from the girl in the front. ‘‘She came out 
with us, and we’ll bring her back !” 

The battle was on. This the Wayfarers real- 
ized instantly, and just how to proceed without 
exciting Beth 

“We came for Miss Brandon and are very in- 
timate friends,” insisted Patsy. “She must come 
back at once in our car, if she wishes to see her 
brother.” 

“But we have lovely plans all made for the 
entire afternoon, and I guess we are not going 
to have them all spoiled,” the girl sitting beside 
Beth insisted. It was not hard for the Way- 
farers to guess why the plan “for the entire after- 
noon” had been so definitely made. 

“Oh, I must see Tony,” Beth at last found 
opportunity to call out, although the two girls 
with her were even now trying to prevent her 
from saying anything. 

“We’ll take you wherever He is, just as soon 
as this tire is fixed,” quickly offered the girl at 
front. 

“But we can not wait for anything,” Patsy de- 
clared, her temper beginning to show its edge. 

“Well, you have just got to,” retorted she with 
the sharp nose. “The idea! Makin’ all this 
fuss!” 


192 


PATSY CARROLL 


‘‘Beth, don’t you want to come along with us?” 
asked Bee. The mechanic had stopped his work, 
and now stood gaping at the verbal combat- 
ants. 

“Certainly, I do,” replied Beth, her voice quiv- 
ering. 

“Then you shall come,” insisted Bee. 

“But I can’t — can this car move out?” faltered 
Beth, her physical condition was not such as to 
warrant walking yet, the girls realized. 

“Sure it can,” spoke the workman. “I’ll just 
shove it ” 

“You don’t need to,” shrilled the sharp one. 
“Why should we be delayed? We have just as 
important business to take care of as anyone 
else.” 

Patsy was getting desperate. Time was fly- 
ing, and every moment doubly precious. She 
realized she must act quickly, and with no possi- 
bility of error. 

“Just a minute,” she said pleasantly, to throw 
the antagonists off their guard. “Will you kindly 
give my friend a hand?” to the workman. 

“Sartin’ sure,” replied the man good-naturedly, 
stepping up to the side of the car where Beth 
was leaning eagerly waiting for a chance of es- 
cape. 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


193 


“No, no!” cried the sharp-nosed girl. “Don’t 
you dare lift her out! How do we know these 
strangers ?” 

“Maybe kidnappers!” added the other des- 
perately. 

The workman hesitated. He almost pushed 
off his oil-cloth cap in perplexity. 

“N onsense,” cried Bee. “It is most urgent that 
this young lady meet her brother. He is on the 
bay looking for her, while we traced her here. 
Please assist her to our car,” she begged. 

“Wait a minute,” interrupted Patsy. She ran 
out to the machine standing at the curb, spoke 
to the driver, then stepped on the running board 
as he turned in, and came up the garage drive, 
until one car touched the other. 

“Here, please,” she spoke to the driver of her 
own taxi. “Just lift this young lady out ” 

“Sure thing,” agreed the man, who was better 
at guessing conditions than was the mechanic; 
and before the salesgirls could do more than make 
themselves ridiculous, Beth was gently lifted out, 
placed in the other car and the clutch thrown in 
for the backing out into the roadway. 

She sighed happily as she sat between the two 
Wayfarers, and Patsy realized instantly the ne- 
cessity of treating the escape lightly. Already 


194 


PATSY CARROLL 


the convalescent girl was trembling — she should 
not be further excited. 

‘‘Oh, how splendid of you ” Beth faltered. 

“Pure selfishness,” insisted Patsy. “Do you 
suppose we were going to let those girls have 
you while we hung around here just dying to see 
you?” She laughed lightly, and that a strain of 
nerves was thus freed scarcely mattered in the 
effect made upon Patsy’s audience. 

“Oh, it is just wonderful to see you again,” 
breathed Beth. “I have dreamed of you, and 
dreamed of you ” 

“Nothing on us,” returned Patsy with pardon- 
able levity. “We have talked of you until your 
name utters itself in all our sighs.” She leaned 
over and whispered to the driver, whereat the car 
shot ahead with added speed. 

“And to think how lovely and well you look,” 
put in Bee. Her own cheeks were aflame with 
excitement. 

“I can walk, but the doctors warned me to be 
very careful,” replied the dark-eyed one. “After 
all Torry’s wonderful work, it would never do 
for me to be careless.” At the brother’s name her 
voice fell to a caressing sweetness. 

“He resented your running off,” put in Patsy, 
paving the way for the dash that might Have to 


7N OLD NEW ENGLAND 


195 


be made when sister met brother with that 
precious document to be signed. 

“But those girls were so insistent,” exclaimed 
Beth. “And, as we haven’t been very good 
friends lately, I felt I should not repel their ad- 
yances.” 

Bee’s eye caught Patsy’s flash as the latter shot 
out a look of understanding. “Their advances, 
indeed!” it echoed significantly. 

One more turn and the car swerved into the 
wharf where Aunt Martha and the two Perry 
girls were standing, waiting. 

“Here they come,” Mabel almost shouted; and 
the Wayfarers cared little about the attention 
they attracted, for, as the automobile with the 
captured Beth drew up to the edge of the pier, 
Torry Brandon just ran along the same pier to 
meet them and reclaim the anxious, excited sister. 

His smile, wider than usual, betrayed to Patsy 
and her friends his acknowledgement of their 
complete success in overcoming one feature, at 
least, of his peculiar difficulty, but with two 
treacherous girls working against him and his un- 
suspecting sister 

As Bee stepped out of the car he sprang in 
beside Beth, fountain pen and paper ready for 
her signature. 


CHAPTER XVII 


CONFIRMED SUSPICION 

“ T "|r OW dreadfully exciting!” murmured 
I I Beth innocently, as her brother, after 
^ obtaining her signature and kissing her 
hurriedly, was ready to dash off again to the 
station. 

‘T’ll say so!” he replied. ‘‘And only for our 
friends we would have lost out to-day, Beth. 
This means that we may come in with a small 
strip of land on a very big business proposition. 
A company wanted room to bridge over a freight 
run, and if your signature was lacking we could 
not have put it through. It required two-thirds 
of the heirs’ consent, you see, and, of course, the 
Drake end was opposed. But it’s all right, now,” 
and he folded the precious document carefully. 
“This will be in the hands of those gentlemen in 
Boston by nine to-morrow; that’s the final mo- 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


197 


merit allowed,” he finished. The next minute 
he was off. 

Bee had secured the services of a second taxi 
driver (they would not abandon him to whom 
they had good reason to be grateful), and as 
Torry set out for his train there were two parties 
ready for the drive to Beth’s cottage. 

‘T shall be genuinely glad to see Miss Trues- 
dell,” Aunt Martha remarked, ‘^and I hope we 
may be able to meet again during the summer.” 

But it was a very much excited Miss Abbie 
whom they confronted on the small, latticed porch 
of the cottage near the beach. In fact, her anxi- 
ety about the girl who had escaped her charge so 
mysteriously had all but prostrated the kindly 
disposed little lady. 

Zippy, the frisky terrier, saw Beth returning 
in the car (he evidently remembered she left in 
an auto), and his excited barking told the good 
news first. 

‘‘My dear child! My dear child!” Miss Abbie 
exclaimed, keeping very close to Beth as the 
driver assisted her to the porch. “To think you 
missed your brother ” 

“But I didn’t. Aunt Abbie. I signed the 
paper, and everything is all right,” declared Beth. 
“Not really! Oh, I’m so relieved! I should 


198 


PATSY CARROLL 


never have forgiven myself for letting you go. 
Those scheming, conniving girls!” Miss Abbie 
gasped. 

Beth insisted that all hands come up to the 
porch *for a few minutes, although Patsy ex- 
plained they really had to catch the seven o’clock 
boat over to Plymouth. 

Kindred souls, indeed. Aunt Martha and Aunt 
Abbie found themselves to be, and the few mo- 
ments snatched from the hour of returning, af- 
forded them at least an opportunity of getting 
acquainted. 

The girls chatted gaily, Patsy and her com- 
panions studiously avoiding all mention of busi- 
ness to the convalescent Beth, not even referring 
to their own disappointment in not obtaining the 
rental of the old homestead, but, rather, detailing 
some of their interesting experiences over at old 
Plymouth; Patsy’s adventure with the hawk serv- 
ing to more than crowd the fleeting minutes. 

‘‘We may be over again in a day or two,” Aunt 
Martha promised on leaving. “If I can just 
keep track of these young explorers I’ll try to 
have a day or two remain open on their pro- 
gramme.” 

So they drove off gaily and triumphantly, al- 
though their youthful hearts beat wildly in re- 


m^, OLD NEW ENGLAND 


199 


action, for simple as had appeared the rescue of 
Beth, each realized there was really a sinister 
motive behind her detention by the Drake girls. 

“I just hope we never meet those horrid, bold, 
daring girls again,” exclaimed Bee, when all were 
safely settled in the boat heading towards Plym- 
outh. 

“No such luck likely,” replied Patsy. “We 
have crossed their path so often I’m afraid we’ve 
got the habit. But it seems to me rather fortu- 
nate that we did meet them. Otherwise how 
could we have traced Beth?” 

“That’s true, of course,” replied the other, “but 
they are so horrid! Really, Pat, in the garage, 
when our driver came out to help Beth, that girl’s 
eyes just blazed! I could imagine her capable 
of almost anything.” 

“Think what we missed, Mab,” remarked Nell, 
who, with her sister, had remained with Aunt 
Martha and thus did miss the adventure. “But 
we had a lovely time watching the yachts, Patsy. 
No end of style coming and going from that mod- 
est landing.” 

“Good-bye, Provincetown !” said Mab, gaily 
waving a tiny handkerchief at the receeding point 
of land. “We may see you again, and we may 
not. Good-bye!” 


200 


PATSY CARROLL 


“But aren’t we coming over to see Beth? We 
had scarcely a chance to know how she is, and 
everything,” deplored Patsy. 

“My dear. Miss Truesdell assured me they 
would start at once for her own cottage down 
the Cape; that this afternoon’s experience had 
completely unnerved her, and she would not al- 
low the children (she meant Beth and her brother 
of course) to remain in the territory near those 
dreadful girls. She seemed to fear their influ- 
ence would have a serious effect upon Beth.” 

“I don’t wonder,” commented Patsy. “It was 
hard to avoid saying some of the things we 
felt, especially when the Drake’s tried to keep 
Beth in their car; but I guess we were pretty 
prudent, if the effort did almost strangle me.” 

“And I think, all said and done, we may make 
a creditable entry in our little books for the day’s 
adventure, excitement included,” remarked Bee, 
with finality. 

A brief note, but one charged with unmistak- 
able gratitude, came from Torry on the following 
morning. He expressed most sincere thanks for 
the “rescue of Beth,” as the incident had come to 
be known, declaring the matter thus made pos- 
sible meant “a great deal to both him and his 
sister,” and that he now felt constrained to follow 


INi OLD NEW, ENGLAND ^oi 

the advice of their friend Miss Truesdell, and 
take Beth to quieter surroundings. He regretted 
not being able to have an afternoon’s pleasure 
with the girls, but expressed the hope that this 
and more would be arranged before the end of 
summer. 

“I have tried to keep from Beth the real prob- 
lem,” he wrote, “but you have probably guessed 
that the cousins are not easy to escape. I do hope 
you and your friends, through your kindness to 
us, have not put yourselves in their treacherous 
path. If I could have talked with you alone, I 
would have been glad to explain, but, on account 
of Beth’s presence, there was no opportunity.” 

“What is the veiled idea?” asked Bee, as Patsy 
finished reading. 

“We have antagonized the salesladies,” Patsy 
answered, glad evidently to have done so. 

“But they won’t follow us?” queried Nell. 

“Not if we see them coming!” This from Bee. 

“And we have got to give up Beth again so 
soon,” deplored Mabel. 

“Off again, Finnegan!” quoth Patsy, passing 
the letter around for detailed scrutiny. 

“We would not have had time to go over again, 
anyway,” said Nellie. “Don’t we have to go into 
Boston, before we make the journey to camp ?” 


"202 


PATSY CARROLL 


‘\Yes, we do,” agreed her sister. ‘‘At least I 
do, for I must buy some things we came along 
merrily without. It’s all very nice to travel light, 
but when it comes to mid-summer I find things 
a hit bedraggled. My crepe de chine is like 
solidified fog, and as for my net, and georgette — 
wdl, they might be most any kind of fog!” 

^‘To-morrow morning for Boston,” announced 
Patsy, “and I hope we are making no mistake in 
not laying in a store of canned stuff. Suppose 
we find nothing but a little greengrocer’s store 
out that way, and have to live in our berry 
patch?” 

“You can depend, my dear, country folks have 
good living, and I am sure we are willing to exist 
as they do for a few weeks. Of course, I shall 
take a little tea in from Boston,” said Aunt 
Martha, who had just entered the room. 

“And a little coffee. I must have good coffee 
once in a while,” declared Patsy, archly. 

“And I hope I’ll be able to find a place to buy 
milk chocolate,” mused Mab. “I should grow 
thin without that luxury.” 

“Reading matter is what worries me,” chimed 
in Bee. “I am counting on reveling in a home- 
made hammock, under a crabapple tree flanked 
with two magazines daily.” 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


203 


“Why pick on crabapples ?” joked Patsy. “No 
blossoms, now.” 

“But they don’t hurt as larger apples do. I 
have a very tender head, you know.” 

“Oh, but apples of any type are not as bad 
as hawks. I am already thrilled at the prospect 
of almost if not an entire month in our own 
beautiful big old-fashioned house, and I think the 
surprise of it, whether good or bad, makes it all 
the more thrilling. I feel just as I used to. Aunt 
Mattie, when we went to the country the first 
day. How I did explore and dig into things, 
even pulling up tomato plants and looking for 
tomatoes on the roots, like potatoes!” 

“I am very glad, however, that Mrs. Sherman 
is coming with us,” qualified Auntie. “I shouldn’t 
exactly fancy a place like that, without having 
someone along familiar with the territory.” 

“Spooks!” whispered Patsy, thrusting her 
pretty face forward in a grimace not all as ugly 
as she tried to make it. 

“There is someone living on the grounds, didn’t 
Mrs. Sherman say?” asked Mab, a bit appre- 
hensively. 

“I believe so,” replied Bee, “but if there wasn’t 
anyone there, surely six of us, with Roily, would 
be quite an army even for a big old place. Pat, 


204 


PATSY CARROLL 


did you decide to get a dark gingham? I sup- 
pose we couldn’t, by any chance, wear the far- 
merette outfit?” asked practical Bee. 

“Mercy, no!” answered Patsy, pulling a funny 
face. “Just fancy us in coveralls!” 

“They’re splendid, just the same,” insisted Bee, 
“and you’ll find, pretty lady, if you work in a 
garden you won’t care to be bothered with skirts.” 

They were making final arrangements for their 
big adventure, and, with notebook and pencil, 
each Wayfarer was carefully jotting down such 
articles as she felt she might need while out in 
the Dighton-way homestead. 

It had been all arranged to have Mrs. Sherman 
and Roily go in advance, and have things ship- 
shape by the time the Wayfarers reached the 
place, so that there was no need for anxiety on 
the score of tenancy preparations. 

“Of course, it is lovely to have Beth able to 
walk,” remarked Patsy, apropos of nothing but 
reflection, “but, somehow, we seem to need her 
with us. Wasn’t it just splendid even to be with 
her for that little while? Please, Bee, give us a 
lecture on psychology. Why are we so fond of 
a girl who is almost a stranger to us?” 

“Perhaps because two distinct elements are 
working. One is sympathy, the other a natural 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


205 


attraction. You can’t beat that combination,” 
replied Bee, the seer. 

‘‘Patsy, dear,” said Aunt Martha gravely. 
“You know I, too, am verj^ much attached to 
those children, and I rarely take to strangers, but 
I feel, and I want to tell you, that it is better 
for you girls, and better for the recovering girl, 
that your vacation days do not include each 
other.” 

“Auntie Mattie Carroll!” exclaimed Patsy. 
“You perfectly ‘crool’ little ladykins! Whatever 
do you mean?” 

Aunt Martha resisted the strangling hug. 
Patsy slipped to the floor in utter, or pretended, 
despair. 

“I mean, dear child, that you and these girls 
would spend all your time ministering to the sup- 
posed wants of Beth; that she would spend all 
her time in endeavoring to exchange the cour- 
tesies, and that both would waste time needlessly, 
with, perhaps, the result of some detriment to 
both. Now do you understand?” 

“Perfectly. We ’uns would flap around, and 
make so much breeze, Beth would get cold, or 
excited. As flappers we would waste our own 
time and injure her whom we flapped. I feel 
perfectly silly to-day,” admitted Patsy. “Girls, 


2G6 


PATSY CARROLL 


do you remember the touching song, ‘She sat in 
the hammock?’ Let’s sing it.” 

They began in an original and uncertain 
key: 

“She ate so much candy that she up and died!” 
(Five times repeated). 

“She went up to heaven and flip-flop she 
flied!” (Mab loved this and flew about alarm- 
ingly.) 

“He went to the funeral but just for the ride!” 
(It was Nell’s turn to echo five times.) 

“He stood by the mourners and boo-hoo he 
cried !” ( It took Patsy to do the boo-hooing ; and 
Aunt Martha reminded her three times that there 
were others in that little inn. ) 

Then they all “boo-hooed and cried, flip- 
flopped and flied,” and otherwise actually raised 
such a row that only the striking of the big 
grandfather’s clock in the lower hall saved the 
situation. 

“Our last Plymouth swim!” cried Bee. “And 
I promised to meet that nice old gentleman who 
is so interested in our nature work. He is going 
to send some specimens of ” 

“Bee, Bee, Beasy !” exclaimed Patsy, her voice 
still tingling with the absurd tones of the girl 
who died from an overdose of sweets. “To think 


m OLD NEW. ENGDAND 


207 


that you are the only one of us who really found 
a true love in old Plymouth ! Your chevalier may 
be fifty in years, but he’s twenty in heart beats, 
so you just look out for Sir Launcelot.” 

“He went to the fun-er-all just for the ride,” 
sang Mabel, but the echoes were blended with the 
gentle little breeze that blew over Cape Cod as 
the Wayfarers ran along for their final swim in 
the beloved Pilgrim Bay. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE INCOMPARABLE FEAST 

OT even the joy of their great expedi- 



tion obscured the fact that the Drake 


girls were bent upon more mischief, for. 


on the very morning of their departure, came a 
threatening letter boldly signed by both these 
antagonistic young ladies. 

It was addressed to Patsy, and reached her in 
spite of confused directions. Whether all hands 
were too busy getting off from the Inn in the 
bus that carried them to the station, or whether 
Patsy deliberately planned to keep the matter 
secret for her own and Bee’s analysis first, is not 
clear, but the fact was, she put the letter in her 
bag without passing it around, as was usual in 
Wayfarer courtesy. 

“Patsy, dear,” said Aunt Martha suddenly, 
“I almost forgot about leaving our forwarding 
address; did you attend to it?” 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


209 


“I figured it all out, Auntie,” replied Patsy, 
‘'and decided we will not leave any trail here.” 
Her quizzical look was not easy to interpret, and 
even Aunt Martha looked puzzled. 

“Why, dear?” she asked. “Why shouldn’t our 
mail be forwarded?” 

“Oh, well, you see. Auntie,” and Patsy assumed 
great indifference, “these people might allow 
letters to lie around, and it’s much easier to just 
notify the few friends who may write soon, and 
have all other mail forwarded from home. In 
that way there will be no danger of losing per- 
sonal letters.” 

This answer, though not entirely logical, 
seemed to serve, and it was not until they were 
on the Taunton train that Patsy found chance 
to tell Bee of her narrow escape. 

“You see,” she said. “I was determined not 
to leave any clue for those Drake girls to follow. 
If they find us they will be pretty clever. They 
never could possibly guess we would go in this 
direction, and I don’t propose being pestered with 
them. Later, when Beth can visit, we want her 
to have a nice, comfortable, quiet time with us.” 

“Beth?” repeated Bee. “What would we do 
about Torry?” This was pure mischief, nat- 
urally. 


210 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Leave him home with Aunt Abbie, of course,” 
promptly replied Patsy. “But please heed me, 
Beatrice Forbes, and stop fooling! I have a let- 
ter” (she glanced around to make sure the others 
were not noticing), “a letter from those Drakes. 
It came this morning, and I have not had a chance 
to do more than glance at it, but even that glance 
— well, let’s look. Here, we’ll put it in this maga- 
zine.” 

They both read in silence. Little gasps of in- 
dignation escaped Bee, and Patsy’s cheeks burned 
as her eyes scanned the poorly-written page. Fi- 
nally the scrawl was entirely read, and Patsy, 
folding it away, slipped it back into her bag. 

“What do you think of that?” she gasped. 

“I think those girls are perfectly dreadful,” 
replied Bee. “The idea of threatening us !” 

“Torry expected that. But the idea of them 
saying he is a spendthrift, and that he only wants 
to sell that property to get money to squander! 
And he is so good to his sister! I suppose it’s 
all pure, common jealousy.” 

“And what was that about no danger of the 
place being sold? Didn’t you think there was 
some hidden meaning in that?” 

“They wanted us to tell that back to the Bran- 
dons, of course,” replied Patsy. “And, I sup- 


INi OLD NEW ENGLAND 


5n 


pose, they hoped we would conclude that some 
mysterious power is operating to keep the place 
vacant in these busy times. It’s a wonder they 
don’t know it is already rented.” 

“You’re mistaken there, Pat. She said it could 
not be sold, as no one would ever buy the spooky 
old place. Don’t you know she said even the 
agents were sick of it?” 

“The whole scrawl is such a jumble it is rather 
difficult to know just what is intended, beyond 
the outstanding fact that we — ^you and us — are 
to keep our hands out of it. No one could mis- 
take that. I don’t think it wise to tell the others; 
do you?” 

“No, Mab might have a bad dream,” suggested 
Bee. “Somehow the serious turn of things seems 
enough for our wise heads,” her voice apologized 
for the seeming egotism. “Tuck the letter away 
for future reference. Next station is ours, isn’t 
it?” 

“Yes, and let me help 'Aunt Martha, person- 
ally. If she loses anything, I prefer to take the 
blame,” and Patsy hurried to secure the belong- 
ings of her aunt from the overhead car rack. 

Mrs. Sherman and Roily were at the station. 
Roily bright and smiling, under a big-brimmed 
straw hat of old-fashioned farmer sun-down type. 


'212 


PATSY CARROLL 


His gingham blouse opened over a newly sun- 
burned chest, and his cheeks were at least two 
shades deeper red. The country had already done 
its best at initiating Roily, but he seemed to like 
that line of hazing pretty well, judging from his 
beaming acknowledgement. 

Mrs. Sherman fluttered around as if she owned 
not only the station but the railroad as well, and 
she showed rare efficiency in ordering old Caleb 
Trimble about, as he put the baggage into his 
open depot wagon. She then insisted that Roily 
ride along with him to make sure he went direct 
to the place with the luggage. 

A bit dazed, the Wayfarers waited for the 
little woman to hail another driver who sat on the 
“throne’ ' of a three-seated carry-all, and into this 
our friends merrily climbed. 

It was a new experience for them to come 
under a manager, but Mrs. Sherman’s activity 
would be insulted by any lesser term. 

The girls folded their hands and rocked bodily 
in rhythm of pure joy. To “lay back and enjoy 
life” was the real thing after all. Aunt Martha 
asked no anxious questions, a sign of her com- 
plete satisfaction with the capable Mrs. Sher- 
man. 

They were driven up, on a semi-circular drive- 


7 iV OLD NEW ENGLAND 


213 


way, one end leading in, and the other out from 
the homestead, no matter which end was chosen 
for either. The porch also had that kind of 
steps — ^up and down — to a central platform that 
made a really charming little stage overlooking 
the long-terraced lawn. 

The house itself was of the regulation old 
homestead type, two and a half stories, conserva- 
tively built, with just enough windows to give 
just enough light to the rooms and one (again 
central) little portico on the second floor. The 
exactness of all these central provisions pro- 
claimed equal lines of carefully-measured propor- 
tions within, and struck the eye with a primness 
essentially New England, or New English, as 
the Wayfarers expressed it. 

As they stepped on the porch, the front door 
was thrown open by an elderly servant, who wore 
spic-span blue- jeans in lieu of the butler’s white 
linen coat; but there was no mistaking his smile 
of welcome; that was no substitute. 

‘‘This is Abijah,” Mrs. Sherman introduced. 
“We always call him Bijah for short.” 

“So will we,” replied Patsy, with a smile in- 
tended to match Bi’s, while the others murmured 
appropriate greetings. 

Then began the interesting survey Patsy had 


214 


PATSY CARROLL 


so counted upon, and it lacked nothing of the 
surprise-charm she anticipated. 

Rag-carpeted rooms, spotted with brilliant- 
colored, hand-braided rugs, old-fashioned furni- 
ture, “high-boys,” with the accompanying broad, 
generous dressers, big enough to put bed clothing 
in the deep spacious drawers. Rush-bottomed 
chairs, corner stands and “toilette sets,” every- 
thing bespoke the vanished glory of a well-ordered 
home. 

“And where are all the folks?” asked Nellie, 
surprised that all this should survive the family 
unit. 

“Gone,” said Mrs. Sherman simply, but she 
followed the word with a sharp glance shot at 
Patsy and Bee. She was plainly trying to attract 
their especially attention. 

“May I room with Aunt Martha?” asked 
Mabel. “These are such big, long rooms, and the 
beds are so monstrous !” 

“For a while,” condescended Patsy, who was 
regarded as chief of the Wayfarers. “If you 
wish, both you and Nell may take this big room 
with the two double beds, and if auntie wants to 
be prefect of the dormitory she may assume that 
office. Perhaps, until we get used to the place, 
that plan would be best.” 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


215 


“And here we are, Pat,” called Bee from an- 
other room, running back of that which was 
chosen for the younger girls. While this front 
had the advantage of the little dove-cote portico, 
that which Bee was claiming boasted of a large, 
circular bay window that leaned far out into the 
group of elm trees. 

“Lunch will be ready as soon as you are ready 
for it,” announced Mrs. Sherman, and an appe- 
tizing odor, stealing up to greet the guests, at- 
tested the reliability of her promise. 

And such a meal as it turned out to 
be! 

Soup, with fresh garden carrots and little new 
turnips cut in strips that saved their identity, cab- 
bage served in tiny individual heads, or hearts, 
and as different from the usual as is beef tender- 
loin from beef otherwise, potatoes of an entirely 
different flavor from the city-used product, let- 
tuce crisp and dainty, with homegrown tomatoes 
in the nests. To know such a feast is to know 
the luxury of fresh vegetation, and even a short 
distance from farm to market or country store 
materially affects this perfection. 

“How long, or short, have all these been gath- 
ered?” asked Patsy in appreciation. 

“This morning,” replied Mrs. Sherman, hap- 


2i6 


PATSY CARROLL 


pily. “The garden is doing beautifully this year. 
Wait till you try our berries!” 

“Berries!” chorused the girls significantly. 

When the glass dish was carried in — it was not 
cut glass but sparkled for all of that and the red 
of the berries shone through it — ^there was an- 
other delighted exclamation. 

“Roily wants me to tell you this is his pick- 
ing,” said Mrs. Sherman proudly, while a chorus 
of “ohs” applauded. 

Cream — but why torture with envy for the 
feast? The reality can only be confirmed by a 
similar opportunity. Have you ever had a real, 
live, working, thriving all-around vegetable and 
fruit garden in your back yard? 

No? Then you are not of the elect. 

“Glad you came?” queried Patsy from the joy- 
ous throng at the feast. 

“This is really country life!” declared Aunt 
Martha. 

And they ate and rejoiced, but when the feast 
was finished Mrs. Sherman had something im- 
portant to say to Patsy, and she made chance to 
whisper that she would like to speak to her alone. 


CHAPTER XIX 


WILDACRES THE MYSTERIOUS 

‘‘ "1^ UN along and explore,” suggested 
Patsy to her companions. “I’ll talk 
^ things over with Mrs. Sherman, and 
present you with a working programme shortly. 
Don’t eat green apples, don’t touch poison ivy, 
don’t climb cherry trees — the limbs always break; 
don’t ” 

“Don’t worry,” concluded Bee, offering the in- 
itial number of the promised programme. It 
was a pink and white sunbonnet, and made a 
tremendous hit. 

Mrs. Sherman beckoned Patsy into the httle 
sitting room off the end of the long hall. A 
quaint rocker was still in place, and foot-stools 
told a reminiscent story. 

“Miss Carroll,” began Mrs. Sherman. “I felt 
I should tell you all about this place, first thing.” 

317 


2i8 'PATSY CARROLL' 

“Yes, I think that’s the best way to start,” 
agreed Patsy brightly. 

“Well, this is not the house I wanted at first.” 

“I remember you told us that,” Patsy said by 
way of assistance. 

“Yes, I know,” faltered Mrs. Sherman, show- 
ing some uneasiness, “but I didn’t tell you all 
about this. You see there are so many places all 
over Massachusetts with queer stories attached to 
them, that I felt it would be foolish to suppose 
you would care about the yarns attached to this.” 

Patsy smiled her complete indifference to any 
fear, but showed some interest in the yarns. 

“I’ll make it as short as I can, but it always 
seems a long story to me because I suppose it has 
meant a lot to us,” began Mrs. Sherman. “You 
see, the house where I worked with my dear hus- 
band, is just over through that grove. We used 
to call it Toptowers, because it has a tower that 
tops over everything around; and this,” indicat- 
ing the surrounding premises, “was called Wild- 
acres on account of the big piece of land with it, 
a little wild here and there, you know. 

“The owners of both these places were like 
brothers to each other, although they were in no 
way related,” went on Mrs. Sherman, “but when 
the fainilies married, and some died, and others 


7N, OLD NEW ENGLAND 


219 


moved away, the two old men just kept these 
houses up to the top-notch and were satisfied with 
each other’s company, except, of course, when 
some of their families visited back. Well, as 
sometimes happens, both the men died within 
the same year, and my employer, Samuel Toppin, 
went first. His life-long friend, Seymour Larkin 
of this place, was always his adviser in everything 
legal, and when I found we couldn’t get Top- 
towers for you, I just was foolish enough to hope 
we might find some clue to the will of Mr. Toppin 
over here,” she finished, a note of confession in 
her voice. 

“You mean the clue that would fulfill your 
hopes for the little home you expected out here?” 
asked Patsy, considerately. 

“Yes,” faltered Mrs. Sherman, “it may be a 
weakness in me, but I suppose we are apt to 
follow a weakness where it may serve to benefit 
ourselves. I have planned, always, to have Roily 
grow up out here,” she explained eagerly, “and 
it sickens me to think of keeping him in that awful 
city.” 

“Might Mr. Larkin, of this place, have papers 
belonging to your Mr. Toppin?” 

“More than likely,” declared Mrs. Sherman. 
“They always worked together, and that big desk 


220 


PATSY CARROLL 


there,” indicating the combination black walnut 
bookcase and desk, ‘‘saw many a plan made. Sam 
and Seymour, they called Mr. Larkin Morry, 
spent hours and days writing and drawing plans, 
and concocting schemes. They were not old men, 
but Morry was disabled from rheumatism; that 
took him off. My employer, Mr. Toppin, went 
from pneumonia the same year. It was that 
dreadful winter two years ago.” 

“Yes, I remember it,” said Patsy. “And I 
suppose we girls will have something very inter- 
esting to do in searching for your clue,” she prom- 
ised eagerly. “We have done something like that 
before, and I assure you we just love to play 
we’re real sleuths — detectives, you know.” 

“Oh, I’ve looked every place,” said Mrs. Sher- 
man with a sweeping glance that included the old 
desk. “I’ve given that idea up, there’s no favor- 
able clue here, and now I wonder, should I have 
brought you here through such a selfish motive?” 

“Why, we are perfectly delighted with the 
place. It is beyond our wildest dreams,” declared 
Patsy. “You don’t need to worry on that score.” 

“It isn’t exactly that” (Mrs. Sherman looked 
unaccountably ill at east), “but you see, it’s the 
reputation this place has,” she finally managed 
to say. 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


221 


^^Reputation?^^ repeated Patsy. 

“Yes, Miss Carroll. Not that I believe in a 
bit of it, and if anyone ought to know these places 
I should, but I have to admit I have been a little 
scared myself, since I came in here.” 

“Scared! Of what?” 

“That’s it,” and she smiled uncertainly. “It’s 
hard to say just what. Old Bi is the soul of 
honesty, and there are surely no tricks about that 
he has any hand in. I know an honest old man 
when I see one, and no one can say anything 
against Abijah. I would trust him as I know 
his master always did. He’s kept on here now 
because Morry Larkin provided for it in his will,” 
she explained. 

“I see,” said Patsy, listening with one ear to 
Mrs. Sherman’s disclosures and with the other to 
the call coming from Mab and Bee out in the 
garden. 

“But there is really nothing to be frightened 
of,” insisted Mrs. Sherman unreasonably. “I’ve 
been here a week now, and while I’ll own I can’t 
always sleep, I haven’t really seen anything ” 

“What did you Lear then?” asked Patsy, try- 
ing to discover the cause for suspicion. 

“Well, I heard loud noises ” 

“If that’s all,” interrupted Patsy, “don’t wor- 


222 


PATSY CARROLL 


ry that they’ll affect us. And please, Mrs. Sher- 
man, don’t say anything to the others.” 

“I won’t, indeed. That’s why I asked you to 
come in here. Every girl isn’t blessed with your 
kind of common sense ” 

But Patsy smiled away the preferred compli- 
ment. 

“You don’t know the other girls as well,” she 
interrupted. “Just you wait, Mrs. Sherman, un- 
til we all get a chance to run down your wild 
noises! Just give us a week ” 

“Patsy!” called Mabel sharply, “do come out 
here! Whatever is keeping you?” 

“Coming,” agreed Patsy; while Mrs. Sherman 
sighed in relief, evidently glad to have unbur- 
dened herself of that much, at least, of Wildacre’s 
story. 

Outside, the Wayfarers were wildly enthused 
over the country’s enchantment. No wonder the 
table had been laden with such marvelously fresh, 
luscious fruits and vegetables ! Directly back of 
the house was a small lawn, then a little “kitchen 
garden,” and, back of that again, were spread out 
the Wildacres, gently sloping hills unrapt in the 
sunshine, and refreshed from the musical little 
brook that teased its way along, happy as if the 
world had been made for its playground, and en- 


m OLD NEW ENGLAND 


223 


tirely indifferent to the value of its own miracu- 
lous irrigating power. 

Bijah, the utility man, had explained how the 
place had always been worked “on shares,” the 
man “sharing” doing the work, and providing the 
seed for planting, while the owner was accorded 
half the crops for the use of the land. 

Aunt Martha could scarcely speak, she was so 
delightfully surprised with the place. Her mis- 
givings (and she had them seriously) were en- 
tirely obliterated in the splendid prospects ahead. 

“We might have been here all summer,” she 
all but complained to Patsy, both of them now 
inspecting the berry-patch. 

“But we couldn’t have done New England by 
just settling here,” the latter reminded her. “And 
you know. Auntie, dearie, we girls are expected 
to learn, learn, and learn. Then, I suppose, we 
may die if we choose, just so long as we learn 
enough to die with.” 

Her aunt laughed, and gathered a spray of 
red raspberries that would have made a perfect 
pattern for my dainty china set. The leaves of 
powdered green lay like tiny plates under each 
cluster of the most fragile of fruits, and even the 
thorns were soft as rubber, as they picked their 
way along the swaying stems. 


224 


PATSY CARROLIi 


"‘We will surely be very happy here, my dear,” 
said Aunt Martha. “I only wish your father 
could join us at once.” 

“So do I, but you know dad; always finding 
an excuse and more most important business. 
We are lucky if we see him by the middle of the 
month. But isn’t old Bi j ah splendid ? And Mrs. 
Sherman?” 

“Both splendid, indeed,” replied Aunt Martha 
with genuine enthusiasm. “Roily has been show- 
ing us his treasures. He has a pet turtle, some 
kittens and ” 

“A dog?” 

“No, he says no dogs are allowed. It seems 
the owner, who died a few years ago, was most 
particular about dogs, and Bijah will not allow 
any upon the place since the master left it. I’m 
rather glad. Dogs make so much noise, and 
often do such unaccountable things, like howling 
at the moon. I must confess it is unpleasant to 
my ears to hear a dog howl out in the still, mid- 
night hours.” 

Patsy made a little peck at the soft, sensitive 
cheek, and hurried away to view the wonders the 
other girls had discovered. She answered every 
demand for admiration, declared Roily’s turtle 
must belong to some remote age, beyond the time 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


'225 


allotted to man’s inhabitance of this earth; she 
never, in all her life, saw prettier kittens than 
the tiger and the tortoiseshell, and the only thing 
lacking seemed to be a dog. 

Roily also thought this was a serious lack, and 
told Bijah so, but the old man shook his head. 

“No more dogs around here, since Mr. Morry’s 
gone. He had ’em and they were real dogs; 
knowin’ and intelligent, but we have ’nough of 
things around here now without strange dogs,” 
he insisted. Patsy suspected “the things” in- 
cluded those mentioned by Mrs, Sherman, but 
she only smiled indulgently at little Roily. 

“Wait until you come out to visit us,” she 
promised, “then you’ll see real dogs. Mabel and 
Eleanor have the most beautiful little French 
poodle, and I have a great big collie named Chief. 
He’s a beauty, you’ll be sure to love Chief.” 

“Yes’m,” agreed the affable boy, with a grin 
that was all Roily. 

“Do you just love it out here?” Nell asked him. 

“Yes’m, and Mom said I could take you to the 
pond-lilly place as soon as you’re rested,” he of- 
fered shyly. 

“Pink ones?” joked Bee. 

“No’m, yellow an’ white, and Tippy is all right 
now, too. The pink all wore ojff.” 


226 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Oh, yes, we forgot to ask for Tippy,” con- 
fessed Patsy. “Is she the mother of these baby 
kittens?” 

“yes’m. We gave two away; one black and 
one mixed.” 

“But none of them pink,” persisted Bee. 
“Well, I’m sure you ought to have well-behaved 
kittens, you take such good care of them.” 

“And I have three ducks and some chickens, 
too,” declared Holly, proudly. 

“Think of that! Lot’s better than Boston to 
be out here,” commented Patsy, “and we are sure 
we are going to like it quite as well as you do.” 

At that moment Patsy wondered! 

Was she deceiving the girls, to hold that secret 
of Wildacres’ unfavorable reputation? Should 
she gather them all on the big front porch, and 
tell the thrilling tale — ^what she knew of it? 

No force of scruples could dictate that uncer- 
tain course, and it was to tell Bee, and abide by 
her advice, that she finally decided. 

So the first night at Wildacres fell safely over 
their innocent heads. 

Wildacres — ^what had it in store for the Way- 
farers? 


CHAPTER XX 


TRICKS OF A “guilty” CONSCIENCE 

D uring all that evening Patsy found 
no opportunity to tell the story to Bee. 
First everyone wanted to go down to the 
post-office, although no one could possibly ex- 
pect any mail. Quickly as Nell overheard the 
girls who were passing talk of going down, she 
insisted that the Wayfarers fall in line. 

Never before had they enjoyed this particular 
sort of rural excitement. The post-office was 
situated behind a tiny window in the general store, 
and who could guess what went on behind the 
patch of wood that slid up and down, at the will 
of some powerful potentate who might hand out 
good news or bad or none at all? — It was all 
thrilling in an entirely new and novel way. 

Young folks, evidently of the summer-boarder 
variety, giggled and acted very foolish over mere 
colored post-cards, while young men in last year’s 
227 


'228 


PATSY CARROLL 


Palm Beach suits, seemed unduly important upon 
receiving, through the little window, anything 
from book ads. to a shaving cream sample — ^just 
so long as something was received. 

The thin little parade afforded the girls no end 
of merriment, and Bee declared that one young 
swain, deferential enough and by no means flirt- 
ish, dropped a letter and a bag of peanuts from 
sheer surprise when Mab glided by in her pink 
and white organdie. 

How much the arrival of the evening mail 
meant to the Berryton country folks, all this did 
not sufficiently demonstrate, for even the charms 
of a dignified river, with its pretentious craft for 
summer outings, could not compete with that 
elemental, fascinating arrival of the evening mail. 

“We must get letters,” insisted Patsy. “Else 
we will never amount to anything out here. Even 
Roily got one — I saw him capering off with it — 
and there goes the maid who swept the big porch, 
three estates beyond Wildacres — she got slews 
of mail, and here we are ” 

“Did we forget to leave our forwarding ad- 
dress?” asked Nellie. 

“Dear child! Do you realize we only left Ply- 
mouth this morning?” asked Bee. 

“I didn’t, really, it seems so long ago. But do 


229 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


you know Mrs. Sherman has promised to open 
the piano for us, and it hasn’t been opened since 
the owner died? Do you think it’s perfectly all 
right to use it, Pat?” 

“Of course, why not? We are merely tenants 
and not supposed to know anything about the 
former owner; in fact we do know very little. 
The place is rented through a hard-hearted agent, 
and we are privileged to be equally callous. I 
am even counting on finding some music so old — ^ 
so old it will be written in old English.” 

“Don’t you think it is going to be lovely out 
here?” put in Mab. “Just hear those things 
croak.” 

“Frogs! Nice little, slippery green frogs,’’ 
said Bee. “Some evening we’ll take Roily and 
go frogging. It’s lots of fun to see them duck 
as they hear the slightest noise along the water’s 
edge.” 

“Like some old folks,” commented Patsy. 
“They want to make all the noise themselves. 
Do we take guns when we go frogging. Bee?” 

“No, indeed. I wouldn’t harm the poor Bul- 
lies. Just play we are after them with pebbles 
and pine cones.” 

“Why do farmers build their sidewalks up in 
the air like this?” asked Nellie, as they took a 


230 


PATSY CARROLL 


rather steep grade up to the roots of two very 
crooked old trees. 

“They don’t/’ replied Patsy. “This is the way 
the earth grew, and the path is just made to fol- 
low the surface.” 

“But just look at that deep gutter! What 
keeps folks from walking off after dark?” and she 
stopped to look over the edge of the embryo cliff, 
rather dangerous looking even in daylight. 

“I suppose feet get to know paths, just as fin- 
gers get to know piano keys,” suggested Bee. 
“We can’t call it by any better name than habit.” 

“No evening jaunt for me,” decided the ana- 
lytical Nell. “I should fancy bug-a-boos behind 
those trees, waiting to push me down into those 
rocky chasms; and there’s broken glass in this 
one.” 

“Can’t be too particular out in the country, my 
dear,” Patsy reminded her. “You must eliminate 
the garbage man, the trash man, the superintend- 
ent of highways and, incidentally, the taxes that 
go to make up their salaries. You see, the law 
of compensation trails over these rocky roads, 
with the finger of justice skyward. Here we are, 
back home again, and no bones broken, how- 
ever.” 

Aunt Martha was down at the front gate with 


IN- OLD NEW ENGLAND 


231 

Mrs. Sherman as they came up. The evening 
was still young, and with the laughter of parties 
from nearby boarding houses (everyone appeared 
to keep boarders) there seemed little danger of 
acute loneliness, even to Patsy’s suspicion-bur- 
dened mind. 

‘‘We must have some music this evening; I’ve 
promised Bijah,” said Aunt Martha. “Come 
along, children, we are blessed with one advan- 
tage we never thought to inquire about, our house 
has electric lights.” 

“Oh, goody good!” exclaimed Patsy. “Just 
think, we never noticed the fixtures, and they 
might have been mere gas pipes.” 

“And not many places are wired along here,” 
said Mrs. Sherman, “but Sam and Morrie were 
very keen on electricity. I used to be afraid to 
touch things when our place was first wired. 
Come along, do. There’s Bi, in a fresh jumper, 
all ready for the concert.” 

The lights were switched on, each button now 
assuming the importance of a real luxury, and 
they entered the long, old-fashioned parlor, still 
heavy with the odor of long imprisoned air, in 
spite of Mrs. Sherman’s vigorous and daily air- 
ings for the past week. 

Here again was that “indescribable quaint- 


^ATSY CARROLB 


232 


ness/’ mottoes and brilliantly-hued pictures on 
the walls, portraits of family folks, including a 
little girl and boy, evidently brother and sister, 
primly posed with chubby arms around each 
other’s neck, a bride with her roses held aloft 
and a real lace handkerchief showing conspicu- 
ously in the hand that did not hold the roses, be- 
sides there was a very determined visage, that of 
a man with a neatly trimmed beard, his hair 
combed high over a very high forehead, his hands 
clasped in a straight line from coat pockets to 
white vest pockets, and then the tall boots that 
came to the knees and opened into very generous 
gauntlets ; this surely had been the master of the 
house. 

“That’s the owner, Mr. Larkin,” explained 
Mrs. Sherman, seeing Patsy scrutinizing the big 
gold framed portrait, “wasn’t he a fine-looking 
man?” 

“Indeed he was,” agreed Patsy, but a call from 
Bijah for Mrs. Sherman prevented her from 
pointing out the bride, the children, the graceful 
big white horse, besides other pictures surely im- 
portant in their connection with Wildacres. 

Aunt Martha found a favorite musical com- 
position, and although it was of the “Evening 
Bells” style, with dainty little notes afloat in the 


m OLD NEW. ENGUAND 


233 


air far beyond staff limitation, Patsy agreed to 
"try it.” 

Bijah was back at the parlor door to hear the 
second, if not the very first, note struck, and his 
pleasure fully repaid Patsy for her heroic at- 
tempt to force music from the rusty strings. The 
other girls each essayed to try their skill, and 
incidentally Roily was heard to chime in on 
"Smiles,” all the way from the kitchen, he having 
refused an orchestra or balcony seat in the parlor. 

"It must sound like it,” commented Bee, for 
she had applied the "Smile notes” to the key- 
board and thus produced the satisfactory result. 

So the evening went, and it was surprising how 
many things of interest were discovered in the 
old place. 

"We could never be lonely Here,” again said 
Patsy. 

"Why, Patsy Carroll!” exclaimed Mab. "Why 
do you keep staring at walls, and squinting at 
windows, and declaring we could never be lonely? 
Do you harbor some sinister threat or fear of 
things hereabouts?” 

Patsy laughed gaily, then laughed again re- 
flectively. Wasn’t it uncanny that even Mab 
should thus read her thoughts? Like all other 
people surprised in action, Patsy found it con- 


^34 


T'ATSY CARROLL 


venient to attribute the discovery to “uncanny 
insight/’ whereas her own continued comment 
had very plainly betrayed her. 

She did a funny little dance right in the rose 
wreath of the parlor rug, to allay Mab’s sus- 
picion. 

“I always worry about you, Mabsie,” she 
teased, “but not after the first night — and besides 
you are going to cuddle in the dormitory.” 

Twice Bijah went to the front door in answer 
to sounds that seemed to come from the porch, 
as if someone were calling on the new arrivals, 
but each time he returned alone, and each time 
he critically inspected the long shutters on the 
French windows, to make sure they were securely 
fastened. 

“Those windows,” whispered Aunt Martha to 
Bee, “always make me feel unsafe. They are so 
like big doors without the door protections.” 

“Oh, don’t mind Bijah’s solicitude,” replied 
Bee. “I have always noticed caretakers have the 
habit of perpetually looking things over. There 
probably isn’t the slightest reason for it — ^he just 
must keep a-lookin’.” 

“What’s that?” asked Nellie, as a squeaking 
and unusual racket proceeded from the direction 
of the kitchen. 


IN OLD NEJV ENGLAND 


This was a signal for all hands to investigate, 
and when they did they found Roily in the kit- 
chen, struggling to teach his pet duck house man- 
ners. 

*‘There’s a dog prowling ’round,” he insisted 
to Bijah’s protestations, “and I can’t leave Goldie 
out there to be chewed up.” 

He held a big part of the goose in his two 
short arms, but the rest of it flopped around “re- 
gardless.” 

“But, my dear child,” insisted Mrs. Sherman, 
“we cannot keep the duck in the house all night. 
[You must fetch him back to the pen.” 

“I can’t. Mom,” pleaded the boy, his voice 
shaky. “I saw the dog under the hedge, and I 
heard Goldie squawkin’ and I know he was after 
him. I’ll put him under the clothes basket 
and put weights on top.” He was “shoot- 
ing” his words over the aviation tactics of Mr. 
Goldie Ducklet, with a rather disconnected 
result. 

“Suppose we take a lantern and go inspect?” 
suggested Patsy. “Then we can make sure every- 
thing is safely shut up ” 

“All right,” agreed Roily reluctantly. He had 
better grace than to oppose his benefactor, al- 
though he was plainly worried about the duck^ 


236 


PATSY CARROLIi 


with the golden-shaded neck-band strung on silky 
feathers. 

Mrs. Sherman seemed relieved at this solution 
of the problem. A duck under the clothes bas- 
ket, plainly, did not appeal to her housekeeping 
sense. It was very dark out under the grape 
vines, and the lantern was very stingy with its 
light. Mab and Nell risked the uncertainty of 
big lilac trees behind which they hid until the 
lady with the lantern — to wit Patsy — came along, 
then they pounced out with that ‘‘terrifying” re- 
sult girls so love to achieve. 

Patsy jumped and shouted obediently, and 
each little squeal of terror had in it more for her 
than the others guessed. 

What if someone was really lurking about, 
and had this chance to observe them as victims? 

Answering the secret suspicion she suddenly 
burst into a merry song about “Smoking a Meer- 
schaum Pipe,” and doing otherwise very brave, 
if unwarranted, stimts. 

“We’ll have to put him in the cow-shed,” de- 
clared Holly. “That can be shut tight and the 
coop can’t.” 

“All right,” agreed the leader. “Which is 
the cow-shed?” 

“Back of the barn, in this way through tiie 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


237 


gate.” He didn’t relax his hold on Goldie, how- 
ever, for the sake of opening mere gates, so Nell 
helped him out. 

Every step they took led them deeper into the 
darkness. 

^‘Our eyes are city struck,” remarked Bee. 
‘‘I’m as blind as a bat.” 

“And I feel as if I were going to crash my 
head against some unseen harrier, every step,” 
explained Mab. “We must, indeed, have city 
eyes.” 

“My lantern makes me the wise virgin,” pro- 
claimed Patsy, waving aloft the ray of light. 

“There’s a stick in the latch,” said Holly, re- 
ferring to the fastening on the door of the cow- 
shed. “You just got to pull it.” 

The door opened as Mab pulled the latcK- 
string, and then there was a wild swoop 

“Mercy!” cried everyone. 

“That’s him!” insisted Roily. “That’s the big 
dog, I seen his head. Look-ed him run!” 

“A dog, that size !” exclaimed Patsy. “He al- 
most knocked me down.” 

“Don’t let’s go in there!” begged Nell. “The 
place may be full of beasts.” She had jumped 
to the possible safety of a wood pile and the sticks 
were tumbling down under her weight. 


238 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Naw, they’s no more,” insisted Roily, “an’ 
I Ve got a nice basket of straw in there for Goldie. 
I’ve got to get it.” 

“ ’Course you have,” chimed in Patsy. “And 
who’s afraid of old, stray dogs!” 

“Guess he knew Bi would shoot him if he 
caught him,” ventured the boy, stretching a point 
on the “shootin’ ” to suit the emergency. “I saw 
that dog crawl in here to-day and he’s a 
lovely big dog — ^if only Bi would let me keep 
him?” 

“How do you suppose he got shut in here?” 
asked Patsy, scenting collusion. 

“Don’t know. But Jed Sims might do it. He 
knows I don’t dast keep dogs.” 

“Who’s Jed?” Patsy had swung the lantern in 
the far corner of the shed and Roily had hold 
of the straw-lined nest for Goldie. 

^‘Oh, he’s a feller. Thinks he’s smart and 
plagues Bi. But he better jest wait ’till I ketch 
him lockin’ dogs in our barn!” 

“He better had,” chirped Nell, now close be- 
side the lantern and almost under Patsy’s arm. 
“You just wait until we get hold of this here 
Jed. We’ll scalp him !” threatened Nell. 

“Oh, will y’u? Will y’u help me give it to ’m? 
I would jest like to give ’m a good lickin’. He’s 


IN OLD NEW. ENGLAND 


^9 


so fresh an’ such a smartie,” declared Roily sav- 
agely. 

He put the squeaking Goldie deep down in the 
nest, turned another peach basket upside down 
for a cover, and on top of that set an old iron 
pot, used, it seemed, for sick animals to drink 
out of. 

“You see,” explained Roily, “we don’t use this 
shed ’ceptin’ for sick chickens an’ things like that. 
I guess Jed knew I’d come here to-night, and he 
thought that dog would scare me to death. But 
if I c’u’d ’a’ kept him he’d never see his dog Rover 
again.” 

“Never mind,” consoled Patsy, “we’ll see wKat 
we can do to talk Bijah over. You really would 
have good times with a big dog on a place like 
this.” 

She wondered if the malicious Jed could be 
implicated in the disturbances Mrs. Sherman 
spoke of? And further she hoped He was a boy 
who would not be difficult to Keep track of. 


CHAPTER XXI 


SYLVAN SOLITUDE 

EE, don^t you dare go to sleep until I 

1^ talk to you,” warned Patsy, prodding 
her companion who had rolled so far 
over in the big bed that she had to roll over her- 
self to reach her. ‘TVe had a guilty conscience 
all the afternoon, and I’m not going to sleep 
on it.” 

“Patricia Carrollesque!” exclaimed Bee, com- 
ing face upward. “You alarm me! A guilty 
conscience torturing you! Out with the guilt, 
my ears are ready !” 

“Of course, it isn’t anything I’ve done,” ex- 
plained Patsy needlessly. “It’s something I’ve 
heard, and I’ve violated a Wayfarer rule by 
keeping it all to myself,” she admitted. 

“Not such an awfulness, dear, and with it you 
have a treat in store for me, so why worry? 
What’s the great big secret?” 

240 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


241 


“Mrs. Sherman confided in me directly after 
we got here. She admitted this old place has a 
rather unsavory reputation/’ began Patsy. 

“How so? Not a den of thieves or anything 
like that?” 

“No, nothing criminal; that is, she knew of 
nothing really wrong about the place, and she 
ought to know because her former employer, de- 
ceased, and the owner of this place, deceased, were 
life-long friends.” 

“Isn’t this the very place where Mrs. Sherman 
used to live? I thought that was the main idea.” 

“No, dear, it isn’t. Mrs. Sherman lived over 
at the Toptowers; that’s the place with the big 
cupola on the tower — ^the next estate, you know. 
And this is where Mr. Toptower’s friend lived,” 
explained Patsy. 

“Oh, I see, rather complicated. But the secret, 
Pat, dear? What about our homestead’s ill repu- 
tation?” 

“The usual string without the spindle — that’s 
one of my own. Mrs. Sherman says this place 
ought to be sold while the market is up; that 
many people want it and the heirs want to sell 
it, according to the agent; but the folks here- 
abouts succeed in scaring every prospective buyer 
off before a deal can be put through.’* 


PATSY CARROLIi 


242’ 

‘‘How do they do it?” demanded Bee. 

“Seems there is a reason, and to-night when 
we foimd the strange dog locked in the barn, I 
ljust wondered could that be part of a scheme 
to scare us out?” 

“I won’t scare two cents’ worth,” insisted Bee. 
“This is altogether too comfortable and cozy. 
Just smell those roses at your window, and in- 
hale the honeysuckle perfume ! No, indeedy, Pat 
Carroll, I’m going to stay here, dogs, boys or 
ghosts to the contrary,” and a sudden turn 
caused the springs of the bed to sort of encore 
this outspoken resolve. 

“You don’t imagine. Bee Forbes, that I am 
thinking of taking a scare or even a dare,” de- 
manded Patsy. “But you must allow that auntie 
has normal nerves, and the other girls were never 
exactly daring. [You and I — ahem! Well, 
Peasey, let’s see what happens. I’ve warned you 
now, so say your prayers carefully.” 

“Said! Also I am nice and clean, if I must 
die this night, and I’ve a good coat of cold 
cream ” 

“Bee, stop! That’s horrid!” 

“What? Don’t you believe in being neatly 
prepared?” 

“Mrs. Sherman said she had b^ard things but 


7iv: OtD NEm ENGmND 


243 


couldn’t find the things,” continued Patsy, ig- 
noring Bee’s preparations. “Oh, yes, I almost 
forgot to tell you this. She said her especial mo- 
tive in fetching us here was to gain a chance to 
look for a clue to her supposed whereabouts from 
Sam Toppin — Mr. Toptowers, you know. I 
told her we would clean that little matter up in 
a week, but she insisted she had even taken up 
rugs, but no valuable papers are to be found.” 

“Why should they be here?” 

“Bee, darling, your pardon. I’m talking back- 
wards. I should have explained that the two 
old gents were so chummy. Toplofty always 
wrote his letters and drew up his papers over 
here on Morry’s nice old-fashioned desk — the one 
in the sitting room. So it was reasonable for 
Mrs. Sherman to think the paper she craves is 
around these diggin’s. It’s a mere detail. You 
will find that, just as we did the will in the knap- 
sack at Wilderness Lodge. Just give us a week 
or two and we’ll clear up that little matter. Now, 
I think that will be about all. Suppose we call 
it a day? I’m dreadfully sleepy.^’ 

“Same here, and a day it is,” agreed Bee. 
“Don’t call me unless you are sure it’s ghosts. 
Can’t tell but Roily may have more trouble with 
that precious duck of his.” 


244 


P2TSY CARROLL 


“I know ducks from ghosts, Bee, and I’ll be 
careful in the paging,” said Patsy, whereat the 
bed springs creaked again agreement. 

It was so still — ^not even the frogs broke the 
silence, and the tired Wayfarers slept, slept, 
slept; until bold sunshine broke its way in, and 
tantalized each girlish face that burrowed deeper 
into convenient pillows. 

“Oh, h-h!” yawned Patsy. “I thought I was 
dead; never slept so soundly in all my life! 
Where are we?” 

“Here,” answered Bee, “just where we fell in 
last night. And Pat, didn’t anything happen? 
Wasn’t something due to happen?” 

“The same question nags me,” spoke Patsy, 
“but I can’t just place it. What was scheduled 
to come?” 

“Ghosts — don’t you remember, we were ex- 
pecting ghosts?” 

“Ye’ah, and they didn’t call. Better luck next 
time. But wasn’t that a heavenly sleep? Won- 
der if there’s a narcotic in honeysuckle? Smell 
it? U-um!” she breathed deeply. “That’s bet- 
ter than it was last night, even.” 

“The dew draws out the fragrance,” com- 
mented Bee. “Yes, it’s heavenly.” 

They stretched deliciously, and looked over 


IN OLD NEIV ENGLAND 


^5 

the strange room, with that sense of novelty pe- 
culiar to the first awakening. It was a lovely 
old room, surely, the bed so roomy with its great 
tall posts, and tlie windows draped with vines 
left no need for mere stuff -made curtains. 

“Hasn’t it kept well? I wonder who lived here 
last?” asked Patsy. 

“Why, the old gentleman, wasn’t it?” 

“I don’t think so. It seems it has been rented 
with the buying privilege, but the tenants all get 
scared off. I am sure we are having a lovely 
time. If we wanted to buy I’d pay a deposit 
this very day,” declared Patsy. “I never knew 
I was so tired, or that I needed the sort of sleep 
that came last night. That is enough to make 
any place valuable.” 

“But we have only had one night of it,” Bee 
reminded her. “I do like it and feel, as you do, 
we are going to be greatly benefitted by such calm, 
but, Pat, we have scarcely given it a fair 
trial.” 

“That’s so, of course, all the same I can’t see 
what would be troublesome here. To change the 
subject. Bee, and then to change our positions 
for that of ‘right about face and forward march’ 
to the wash room. First: the subject. Do you 
realize that in keeping this address from the Ply- 


246 


PATSY CARROLL 


mouth folks, for possible forwarding of truant 
mail, we have left no clue for the Brandons?/’ 

‘‘No! Really!” 

“Really, no! You see, we were to go back 
the next morning, and were all so excited about 
finding Beth we never thought of this change. 
Once or twice it did occur to me, but not wanting 
to refer to our disappointment in not getting 
their place, I thought it best not to touch the 
subject. Both Torry and Miss Abbie warned 
us, you know, not to speak of business to Beth. 
Miss Abbie told Aunt Martha they had even dis- 
missed Beth’s nurse, who had been with her a 
long time, just to cut down expenses. They ex- 
pect to recall her, it seems, when the property 
business ‘looks up,’ as dad would say. I do hope 
Torry put through that deal he >va s so excited 
about,” she finished. 

“So do I,” replied Bee quickly. “We may 
take a little of the honors if it turned out all right. 
There couldn’t have been more than mere min- 
utes to spare when that agreement was signed. 
But that was only something preliminary, wasn’t 
it? Not a deed for the old place?” 

“I understood it was for some small strip neces- 
sary in a factory site — I think a freight-run or 
something like that. But you see, it is yery yalu- 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


Ml 

able to get a big enterprise in on the land. That 
always offers a chance for further develop- 
ment.” 

“Seems to me, Pat, your head is working pretty 
well this morning, considering the dead sleep you 
admitted. There, I hear the nursery stirring. 
When Mab and Nell laugh together they make a 
pretty duet of it; don’t they?” 

“Lock the door, bolt it, I mean, until I get 
partly dressed. Nell loves to try things on, and 
we haven’t time for much nonsense this morning. 
I am just dying to get out and see things,” de- 
clared Patsy, already free from boudoir cap and 
robe, and getting dressed to the point of outside 
garments. 

“Do we bathe in the river, or lake, or ocean?” 
asked Bee, following Patsy’s example. 

“It’s a river, but I believe, salty, and has a 
swift current, coming in from the bay, you know. 
[Yes, we can bathe about eleven, which is rather 
fortunate as I haven’t noticed any modern show- 
ers in Wildacres plumbing. There, let them in 
now. We can defy them.” 

The noisy bolt was shot back and the Perry 
girls literally tumbled in. 

“How did you sleep?” 

“Never woke upl” 


248 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Aunt Martha wants to buy the place.” 

“Never knew what silence was before.” 

The duet of laughter had changed to one of 
exclamation, and the above snatches were given 
by Nell and Mab. They concluded by both 
jumping into the big, upset bed, to try it; to see 
if it could possibly be better than theirs. 

A tap at the door interrupted the hilarity. It 
was Mrs. Sherman. 

“Would you young ladies like to rest a little 
longer?” she asked smilingly. She evidently 
had also slept well, “I’d just as soon fetch you 
up a few berries and some coffee, and you might 
enjoy taking it easy after all your travelling,” 
she suggested. 

“Easy!” exclaimed Patsy. “Easier than this, 
Mrs. Sherman? Why, my dear lady, we have 
just been saying we never knew what solid com- 
fort was before,” Patsy exchanged a glance with 
the housekeeper, and received another in recogni- 
tion. 

“I’m so glad you slept well,” said Mrs. Sher- 
man. “It was very quiet last night.” 

“Isn’t it always quiet?” asked Mab, sitting up 
and banging her towsled head against the bed 
post. “We hope it is, Mrs. Sherman.” 

“I hope it will be,” she answered, and Patsy 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


249 


laughed at the evasion. ‘‘Can’t I bring you a 
bite ” 

“No, indeedy,” interrupted Patsy. “We are 
so charmed with the place, Mrs. Sherman, we 
wouldn’t dare waste another glorious morning 
hour here. You might fetch Aunt Mattie a 
drink, if it isn’t too much trouble. She would 
enjoy it, I’m sure. Just hand it to me at the 
back stairs, and please, Mrs. Sherman, don’t fan- 
cy we expect you to wait on us. One worker in 
a house like this couldn’t possibly serve trays.” 

The gingham-f rocked woman smiled happily. 
“If you could know just what it means for us 
to be out here!” she said. “I can hardly keep 
Roily indoors after daylight.” 

“And we are apt to follow his example soon,” 
said Bee. “There is nothing like the first hours 
of the morning in a place like this. I must try 
some nature study work on these lazy girls, and 
we may have to be following butterflies pretty 
early.” 

The others were about to object, when a ham- 
mering of the brass door knocker interrupted. 

“Bijah is gone away for the day,” said Mrs. 
Sherman quickly. “I must answer. Who can 
that be, so early?” She hurried off to the front 
door, while the girls waited expectantly. 


250 


PATSY CARROLL 


“Maybe it’s the mean girls, come out to threaten 
us again,” whispered Nell, foolishly. 

“Maybe it’s our baggage,” said Patsy, sen- 
sibly. 

“It’s the agent,” said Bee, decisively, “or some- 
one to see about the house. Get into your duds 
quickly, he may want to inspect.” 

And that guess was not very far from the ac- 
tual truth; hut the inspection proved to he a little 
out of the ordinary. 


CHAPTER XXII 


A FULL DAY OF IT 

W HEN Mrs. Sherman opened the front 
door, a man’s voice, in angry tones, 
could be heard all over the old home- 
stead. 

“What do you suppose is the matter?” ner- 
vously asked Mab. She was farthest from being 
dressed and nearest the hall door. 

“Listen,” whispered Bee. 

“Yes, of course,” the strange voice was saying 
angrily. “It’s all right to have it rented, and we 
ain’t worried that folks’ll want to stay long; but 
there’s one provision in that will that must be 
carried out. Old Bijah has got to stay here as 
caretaker, if he’s goin’ to live out of the place.” 

“But he only went away for a few days,” pro- 
tested Mrs. Sherman, “and the man has busi- 
ness to attend to. He was waiting for these 
people to come before he went,” she explained, 
her voice showing an effort to bring down the 
loud tones of the other speaker. 

251 


252 PATSY CARROLL 


“You wouldn’t stay here alone, eh?” and he 
cackled a very unpleasant laugh. “Can’t say as 
I blame you. This here castle sure is haunted!” 
and he laughed again. 

“Certainly I’d stay alone,” declared Mrs. Sher- 
man, indignantly. “Why shouldn’t I?” 

“You ought’er know. Well, let’s see if old 
Bi’s been attendin’ to things. That clock up there 
wound?” 

He made his way past the housekeeper, and 
could be heard mounting the stairs with a heavy 
step. The girls quickly shot the lock on their 
door, for the old clock, evidently that referred to, 
stood almost at the entrance to this big room, in 
an arch at the top of the staircase. 

“Haunted I” exclaimed Mab, hut her compan- 
ion motioned for silence. 

“Jest as I expected! That old fellar’s been 
neglecting this. Where’s thet key?” The dis- 
turber was fumbling around, and after groans 
and grimts expressive of his anger, he seemed to 
have found the key. He could now he heard 
winding tighter the rusty spring that creaked 
boldly in protest. 

“When that feller comes back you tell him I 
said to keep that clock wound reg’lar — reg’lar, 
y’u understand? An’ if he doesn’t attend to 


IN OLD NEW ENGUAND 


253 


things I’ll have him ousted by the court, that’s 
what I’ll do,” snapped the intruder. 

*‘Are you from the agent’s office?” asked Mrs. 
Sherman quietly. She had followed him to the 
second floor. 

‘‘I am not from no agent’s office! I’m chief 
heir to this property, and I intend to see that 
no meddlin’ city folks spoils my plans. You used 
to live at Toppin’s, didn’t you?” he inquired. 

“Yes, I did,” faltered the woman. “Why?” 

“Thought so! Then you’ve got fish ter fry, 
too!” (again the cackle). “Wish yer luck; but 
don’t come meddlin’ in my affairs; understand?” 
He tramped down the stairs again. 

Mrs. Sherman must have understood, for the 
slam of the front door closed the question very 
emphatically. 

A council of war followed quickly as the girls 
could come downstairs. 

“I don’t just know his name,” explained Mrs. 
Sherman, her face still flushed from the excite- 
ment, “but I’ve seen him around here before. I 
know he is one of the heirs to this estate. But 
we won’t pay any attention to him. I hope your 
aunt didn’t hear him?” she suggested, anxiously. 

“I don’t think she did. A man’s voice might 
mean a mere plumber, you know,” suggested 


254 


PATSY CARROLL 


Patsy. “But don’t you think we should notify 
the agent that we don’t care to be bothered with 
that style callers?” 

“I just wouldn’t say one word about it,” re- 
plied Mrs. Sherman, cautiously. “He’s the sort 
that has to blow off, and I guess he’s about used 
up his blowing this morning. The idea of any- 
one complaining about poor old Bijah taking a 
few days off! And scolding about the old clock 
being run down! The idea! Why, it’s better 
run down than ticking its heart out. I was glad 
when it stopped the other day.” 

“Well, we will try not to object to its ticking,” 
said spokesman Patsy, “but we do object to 
strange winders. There’s Roily with fresh ber- 
ries! Um-m-m! How delicious! Let’s taste,” 
and the big dish of red raspberries in Roily’s 
hands was immediately surrounded. 

Following the morning’s excitement, the day 
was simply crowded with fun. Bathing in Taun- 
ton River, off Dighton, afforded real novelty, and 
a trip in the afternoon, made by launch, to the 
famous Dighton Rock served as something more 
than interest, for the Wayfarers came upon a 
rather thrilling experience while attempting to 
inspect the ancient stone. 

A party from Newport, two young girls and 


/AT OLD NEW ENGLAND 


^255 


two young men, were the other occupants of the 
launch which carried the Wayfarers, and the 
young men insisted the captain run his boat 
close along the world-famous rock. 

“We want a squint at those hieroglyphics,” or- 
dered one. “They are said to have been made by 
the Norsemen in the tenth century, and we might 
be able to recognize the screed. Can’t you run 
your boat up alongside?” he asked the captain. 

“I can, of course,” agreed the little man in 
the oil-cloth cap, “but there’s a sand bar there, 
and no tellin’ how we can come off it.” 

“Run in, anyhow,” urged the other chap. “It 
means something to us at college to have seen 
that rock close-up.” 

So the launch “ran in.” Coming close to the 
side of the big, flat stone. Bee wanted to follow 
the students and step out upon it, but the boat- 
man objected. 

“I wouldn’t advise you to,” He said. “There’s 
a tide out here, and this boat ain’t anchored. Bet- 
ter take a good look from where you are; it’s 
safer.” 

Then something happened. The craft’s keel 
grated harshly; there was a sudden jar, and for 
hours — ^mortal hours — those of the launching 
party couldn’t do anything but look, for the boat 


256 


PATSY CARROLL 


was promptly stuck on the dreadful sand bar! 

Every bit of power possible was turned on, the 
engine was speeded to its limit, but the screw 
turned foamingly in the water, without budging 
the launch. 

The captain was furious. He was missing 
boat-loads of passengers who waited far away 
on that river shore, eager for a chance to see 
Dighton Rock, and here he was marooned out 
on the sand bar, far even from the sight of land 
from the dock. On the other side of the water a 
forest could be seen, but no sign of help could 
be expected from that direction. 

Failing to move the little launch under her 
own power, the oars were used, the young men, 
whose insistence was responsible for the plight, 
gladly doing what they could to assist the irate 
boatman. But one over-vigorous thrust against 
the big rock splintered an oar, and left but one 
then available. 

‘‘Suppose one or two of us get out; would that 
help by lessening the weight?” asked one of the 
girls from Newport; and without waiting for any 
assurance, she sprang into the rowboat that 
trailed behind, and with pretence of indifference, 
cooly untied the rope. 

In a moment she was drifting! First the mat- 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


2S1 


ter was taken as a joke, and good-bye songs 
attempted, but the boatman failed to see the fun. 

“Throw her that oar!” he shouted. “Can’t 
you fools see there’s a strong tide here?” 

The oar was thrown, and it was snatched up by 
the now thoroughly-frightened girl. But what 
could she do with one oar? 

“Oh, do something, quickly!” begged Patsy. 
“She’s drifting farther away every minute!” 

Quickly? That rowboat was going at the rate 
of a mere chip on the light waves ; and the girl’s 
companion in the launch was screaming in ter- 
ror. 

“Sue! Sue!” she shouted. “Try to turn! 
Try to get back!” but the girl in the boat was 
helpless. 

All were standing tense and anxious, when 
suddenly one of the young men tossed aside coat 
and cap and plunged into the water. 

Suspense gripped everyone and not a word 
was uttered as he pulled through that current, 
stroke by stroke, and at last was beside the row- 
boat. 

What a relief to see him climb in! At least 
the girl would not be carried away alone and 
helpless, although he seemed almost as powerless 
as she, but, strive as he would, the young man 


258 


TATSY CARROLL 


could not force his way back with that one inade- 
quate oar. 

The boat was swirling and whirling, and it 
was too evident no progress could be made in re- 
turning. Then it drifted on rapidly toward the 
bay. 

“We have got to get out to them,” insisted the 
captain, “and we can’t move until the tide turns.” 
Again he opened wide the throttle, until the 
young man remaining in the launch jumped to 
the engine and pushed the angry skipper aside. 

“Do you want to blow us up?” he shouted. 

“Oh, mercy,” whimpered Mab. “If we only 
could get back to shore!” 

“We will, presently,” appeased Bee. “The 
tide is turning now.” 

How another hour was spent watching the 
rowboat drift farther away, with the occupants 
shouting back and forth, may be imagined, and 
it was almost dark when the little launch jerked, 
then rocked, and finally floated out into the water. 

What a relief! 

Straight for the drifting boat the captain 
steered, but with poor grace, for the best part 
of the afternoon’s business had been lost in the 
long delay. 

But those from Newport seemed to forget his 


'IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


£59 

loss quickly in the rescue of Sue and her com- 
panion, while the Wayfarers voiced something of 
their own anxiety for the unwarranted delay. 

Aunt Martha and Mrs. Sherman were down 
at the dock, when the launch with the excited 
party returned. 

“Roily insisted you were out on the bar,” said 
the housekeeper quickly as they landed, “but the 
boats were all so busy with the excursionists we 
couldn’t get anyone to go out. But you are all 
safe and sound, thank goodness ! and I guess you 
will all remember the famous Dighton Rock.” 

“We surely will,” declared Nell. “It’s a won- 
der we got back alive. The little boatman was 
so angry ” 

“Hush,” whispered Patsy, “make a lark of it, 
Nell. We don’t want to frighten Aunt Martha 
so she will put up the bars. We saw Dighton 
Rock, at any rate,” she finished aloud. Then they 
hurried and caught the trolley back for Berryton. 

The evening fiew quickly enough, with a porch 
call from a squeaky-voiced little woman who in- 
troduced herself as Mrs. Silas Tibbs, and betrayed 
herself as a village gossip. She knew everyone 
and everyone’s parents, declared that Wildacres 
was “haunted,” and some folks said it was “all 
account of Morrie Larkin settin’ such store by a 


P2TSY CARROLL 


260 

dumb animal; a little black and white dog he 
cared more fer than a human bein’.” 

During a very trying monologue, Mrs. Sher- 
man vainly endeavored to keep Mrs. Silas Tibbs 
from hissing her story into the ears of Aunt 
Martha, and the gossip was stopped only by the 
fortunate interruption of Roily. He came rush- 
ing out with a fight all ready to pile upon Jed, 
“who was fetchin’ his big dog around to scare the 
chickens and ducks,” this threat to be a “good 
lickin’,” and said fight to be administered by 
Roily, no matter what his mother said. This 
alone served to divert the garrulous Mrs. Silas 
from the subsidized story. 

The girls followed Roily around to the arena, 
that chosen being the cow-shed, but, on arrival, 
no Jed nor dog was to be found. 

“He’s the meanest fellow,” declared the gasp- 
ing Roily. “Always lookin’ for a fight when we 
have company! But I’m sick of his blowin’, an’ 
I’m just goin’ to punch his nose fer him first time 
I see him,” declared the angry youngster. 

“Punch it fer me,” egged on Patsy. “I’ll bet 
it will do him good.” 

And when they returned to the porch the un- 
welcome caller had taken herself off. 


CHAPTER XXIII 


THE ALARM 

what was that?'^ 

f 1 “Oh, my! What was it?” 

Patsy and Bee were sitting bolt up- 
right in bed, but neither felt like moving to the 
electric-light button. 

Again there was a sudden and terrifying hang ! 

“That must be a door or a window,” whis- 
pered Patsy. “Could it he the wind?” 

“There is a light wind hut it is not strong 
enough for that. Hark! The girls are calling!” 

“Mrs. Sherman!” came a startled cry. It was 
Mabel’s voice. 

“I’ll turn on the light,” volunteered Patsy. 
“We must quiet the girls.” 

A few moments after the alarm “all hands” 
gathered in Aunt Martha’s room; even Mrs. 
Sherman and Roily, who came in answer to the 
call. 


261 


'282 


TATSY CARROLL 


“We often heard it before,” the small boy in- 
sisted, but the wide-eyed terror he struggled to 
smile through did not indicate any the less fear 
for all of that. 

“In which room is it? Where does the sound 
come from?” asked Patsy. It was no longer 
possible to suppress the facts of some real dis- 
turbance, for several times the old house echoed 
with a slam and a bang! And the hour was that 
of dead midnight. 

“The room on the wing,” replied Mrs. Sher- 
man. “I never go in there except to lock things 
up.” 

“Was it locked last night?” asked Aunt 
Martha. She was trembling visibly, and had one 
arm around Mabel and the other around Nell. 
Both girls were on the verge of tears. 

“Yes, I tried the door directly after Bijah left 
this morning. No one could possibly get in 
there.” 

“It’s all quiet now,” said Patsy. She was not 
indifferent to the fright, but was at the same time 
curiously interested. “Shall we go look. Bee?” 
she asked. 

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” objected Aunt 
Martha, promptly. “I think we had best all just 
stay in here together until daylight.” 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


263 


‘‘Oh, I’ll go right off to my own room,” offered 
Mrs. Sherman, although Roily seemed to he en- 
joying the novel visit, now that the noise had 
really subsided. “I have heard the racket a num- 
ber of times, and nothing else ever happened. 
It is just awful at first,” and Mrs. Sherman tried 
to gather Roily in her robe, although he was 
coolly inspecting such articles as could be reached 
without his actually parading out in his new blue 
and white pajamas. 

“I would much rather have you near us,” said 
Aunt Martha again. “Whatever the noise is, it 
comes from a human agency, and as we are alone 
to-night, I feel we had best keep together. Can’t 
you and Roily take the room that opens off of 
this?” 

“Certainly, if you wish,” replied Mrs. Sher- 
man, “but I am sure there will be no further 
noise. It is always like that.” 

“Will Bijah be back to-morrow asked Nell 
with quick breath. 

“I hope so — I believe he will have to be. That 
man who was here to-day was so angry about his 
leaving.” Mrs. Sherman had opened the door 
between, and a light now shone in the other 
room. 

“Have you any idea wHat it <2an bel” asked 


264 


^PATSY CARROLL 


Patsy, frankly. “Of course you have had every- 
thing looked over carefully?’’ 

“Everything; and we cannot find out what 
causes it. It seems always to come from the 
>ving.” 

“That’s where the old gentleman slept; wasn’t 
it?” quavered Nell. 

“.Yes, he had his rooms over there, Bijah says. 
And we never use that part of the house. We 
don’t need it,” she qualified. Holly was stored 
away in the big bed, and the door was just left 
open a crack, so voices could pass in and out 
from Mrs. Sherman’s to the visitors’ room. 

“Queer,” commented Bee. She seemed as calm 
as Patsy. 

“Very,” scoffed Mab, “and you two don’t seem 
very much alarmed about it.” She appeared to 
resent the fact. 

“Why should we he?” asked Patsy. “We al- 
ways find out these weird things are perfectly 
natural. It’s just the finding out that’s thrill- 
ing.” 

“You are right, my dear,” said Aunt Martha. 
“But, somehow, we cannot get used to these ter- 
rifying things. For my part I shall be glad when 
daylight comes.” 

“And are we not to go back to quarters?” asked 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


265 


Bee. She was describing a fairly good letter “S” 
in a big chair, and threatening to spoil the curves 
with a sudden slump to the floor. 

‘‘I should be simply paralyzed with fright if 
that sounded again,” said Aunt Martha. 

“That settles it!” declared Patsy. “We stay 
altogether. Bee. Just take this lovely, old red- 
and-white quilt.” 

“That’s a Philadelphia Pavement,” called out 
Mrs. Sherman. “Isn’t it perfect?” 

“Ye’ah,” called back Patsy. “But the bricks 
are sort of square ” 

“No, the bricks are the long, red strips,” an- 
swered Mrs. Sherman. “We always call that the 
pavement.” 

But even the quaint old quilt failed to dis- 
tract Mab and Nell, who refused to go back to 
their own bed and were now settling down, like 
two babies, under Aunt Martha’s “wing.” 

“If you two are going to sleep there, we may 
as well turn in here,” suggested Patsy. “Whew! 
What a whopper of a bed! Feathers, Bee, real 
feathers! Just try ’em, Beasy,” and she was 
promptly submerged in a sea of softness. 

After that the night fell back into silence, ex- 
cept for an occasional question whispered by 
Aunt Martha, and answered in the same tone by 


266 


p:itsy cakkolb 


Patsy or Bee. These related entirely to noise 
clues, but failed, absolutely, to even suggest a 
possible solution. 

Why did the members of the household, Bijah 
and Mrs. Sherman, since her arrival, decide 
the noise must be accepted and not pre- 
vented? 

It was over in the wing where the old gentle- 
man, Seymour Larkin, kept his lonely quarters, 
and there was no one about the premises, no dogs, 
not even Jed’s that Roily held the grudge against, 
and yet the racket had been so stirring everyone 
in the house had heard it plainly I 

With that fascination which is peculiar to genu- 
ine fright, each Wayfarer hugged her own fears 
in a tremulous breast, as she again lost conscious- 
ness in sleep; and when morning dawned only 
Mrs. Sherman and Roily stole away to begin the 
day as usual; the others still slept on. 

It was after breakfast, a very late function, in- 
deed, to-day — that Patsy and Bee stole off to 
survey the wing. They found the door securely 
locked from the hall side, just as Mrs. Sherman 
said she left it, but the windows ! 

“There’s the noise!” declared Patsy. “Those 
windows have been opened in the night!” 

“Yes,” agreed Bee, “they would never Have 


m. OLD NEW ENGLAND 


'267 


been left opened during the night; yes, those 
windows must have been opened, but how?’’ 

“No way of reaching up here from any 
porches,” said Patsy, surveying the building from 
a window. “See, this wing runs straight up over 
the dining-room, and there’s no way of reaching 
it from the outside.” 

“And the furniture must have been all moved 
out,” remarked Bee, glancing around at the sin- 
gularly bare room in a homestead otherwise well 
furnished. 

“Yes, Mrs. Sherman says they did that to re- 
move all possibility of hiding places. Bijah told 
her one family were positive they would solve the 
mystery that way. They wanted to buy the place 
so badly, but were finally scared away.” 

“Isn’t it queer?” reflected Patsy, poking her 
head into a long, low closet. 

“Oh, look out, Pat!” warned Bee. “Don’t be 
too rash. You might run into something!” 

“No such luck!” retorted Patsy. “Nothing in 
here but old clothes and old cob-webs. Also 
there’s a drawing-board, and a stand, and a lot 
of papers.” She was calling off as she made her 
discoveries. “The old gentleman must have been 
something of a draftsman, or maybe an architect, 
there are so many drawing tools in here.” 


268 


PATSY CARROLL 


“But no noise-makers/’ said Bee. 

“Not a snapper, nor a wire, nor a thing that 
could possibly be connected with a bang,” de- 
clared Patsy, finally e mer ging from the dark 
closet. 

“Come down and ask Mrs. Sherman about the 
windows,” suggested Bee. “She may even be 
able to explain them.” 

But Mrs. Sherman had no explanation to of- 
fer. 

“That’s just the trouble,” she declared. “I 
shut those windows and go in and find them wide 
open; then I leave them open and go in and find 
them tight shut. I’ll tell you, young ladies, just 
keep out of the old room and let the noise bang. 
It can’t hurt you, anyhow.” 

But this plan would never suit the Wayfarers. 
They intended to get to the bottom of the mys- 
tery, of course, and if necessary “set a trap for 
the ghost,” or his accomplices. 

“The very next time we hear that racket,” pro- 
claimed Patsy, when she and the others were gath- 
ered in the shade of the redolent grape arbor that 
afternoon, “we will just go straight to that 
room ” 

“Oh-o-o!” screamed Mab. “Do you mean to 
say, Pat Carroll, that you would dare go into that 


IN OLD NEW ENGLUND 


'269 


spooky room at night, with the noise all banging 
around?” 

“I do and I shall,” declared Patsy. “I know 
perfectly well it all comes from some natural 
cause, and while I am willing to admit it does 
make one’s hair stand on end until we arrive at 
an explanation, I — ^well, I rather like it,” she 
faltered. The admission brought a storm of pro- 
test upon her aforementioned head, and her com- 
panions all but charged her with a spookish con- 
spiracy. 

“Here’s Bijah, back!” exclaimed Nell sud- 
denly, real joy in her voice. “Was I ever so glad 
to see anyone? Come, let’s meet him. Just see 
all the bundles ” 

“Here’s some mail for you young ladies,” an- 
nounced the returned gardener. He held a batch 
of letters and cards out in an overcrowded hand, 
and the girls quickly relieved him of that part 
of his burden. 

“We are so glad to see you back again, Bijah!” 
exclaimed Mab. “This is a queer place, without 
a man around to keep things in order.” 

“Ain’t it now?” he smiled. “And ’pears to 
me a man can’t do much towards keepin’ things 
straight, sometimes. Hope everythin’s all right ?” 

“OK, yes, all right,” assented Patsy, running 


PATSY CARROLL 


her eyes over the mail. ‘‘But we are very glad 
to see you back, just the same. Isn’t it nice to be 
so important?” 

“Fine!” and he took his bundles kitchenward. 

“Letters!” gasped Mabel. “All re-sent from 
home! That’s why we haven’t had much mail!” 

“Yes, that’s why,” replied Patsy, evasively. 
“And here’s one from the Cape — from Beth, I’m 
sure. All want to read it over my shoulder?” 

“We can wait, thank you just the same,” re- 
plied Bee. “In fact we have a few letters of our 
own.” She waved quite a bunch of envelopes. 

“So I see. Well, I’ll take Aunt Martha hers 
first, then read mine, nice and quietly. I have a 
feeling we may learn something in this from our 
enemies, the Drake girls. I sort of dreamed of 
them last night.” 

“The Drake girls? How could we hear of 
them away out here? I mean, what could con- 
cern us about them away out here?” asked Mab. 

“Can’t tell,” replied Patsy. “They seemed to 
be sort of travelling salesladies, and it might even 
occur that they should get a position down in the 
green grocery store. I can just imagine them 
sorting strawberries.” But she ran off to find 
Aunt Martha before she opened the square en- 
velope, stamped with the seal of Cape Cod. 


CHAPTER XXIV 


A SURPRISING DISCOVERY 

WEEK passed, and the weird noises had 



not again disturbed the tranquility of 


^ those “camping” at Wildacres. The 
stage had been “all set” according to Patsy, to 
expose the fraud and its perpetrators, whatever 
and whoever both might be, but nothing happened 
to warrant action. 

All the joy of peace and quiet, which had so 
qualified the old homestead as an ideal resting 
place, returned with double-edged appreciation 
from the Wayfarers, although Patsy and Bee 
were secretly disappointed to be forestalled in 
their sleuthing. 

They had Mrs. Sherman open all the windows 
in the wing room, and in the morning they would 
be found just as they had been left: again they 
would close them securely and likewise find them 


272 


PATSY CARROLL 


closed: so that the alarm had all the earmarks of 
fraud, and was now just considered something to 
talk about. 

In the big batch of delayed mail received when 
Bijah returned from his one day out of town, 
was one letter of especial interest. It was from 
Mr. Carroll and brought the good tidings of his 
proposed visit to Wildacres “about the middle 
of August,” when he, with his old friend Judge 
Davis, whom the girls had run across on their 
visit to Plymouth, would take the important fish- 
ing trip; that, and no other form of exercise, 
would suffice for Robert Carroll. 

Some days later came another piece of inter- 
esting mail. This was from Torrington Brandon 
and had inclosed a note from Beth. The young 
man reported his success in handling the business 
pertaining to the agreement for a property sale, 
made possible through the Wayfarers defeating 
the Drake girls in strategy, and thus obtaining 
the signature of Beth “in time to close a deal.” 
Torry was briefly enthusiastic, but managed to 
betray a hope “that this would be an opening 
wedge to bigger things.” 

Beth’s note betrayed something else. It was 
the fact of a slight relapse after her exciting ex- 
perience in the imitation kidnapping, and a line 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


273 


or two of extravagant praise for Patsy’s and 
Bee’s part in her rescue. 

“You cannot possibly know what it meant to 
us,” she wrote, “and I am only beginning to guess 
what noble sacrifices Torry has been making for 
his afflicted but hopeful sister.” 

She continued to tell of a change for the better 
in her condition, and finished with a direct protest 
against the girls’ hiding. 

“Why had they not left their address? And 
why did she have to send this letter all the way 
around through New York?” Beth asked. 

Upon receipt of this Patsy hastened to make 
amends. How the oversight occurred was easy 
to explain, and the reason for delay in rectifying 
it was the probability of mixup and further delay. 
Bee it was who had advised waiting for the Bran- 
don letter and then sending a direct reply. A 
letter was obviously due, and it did arrive as per 
schedule, so it was now time to reply. 

The designing Patsy had another thought in 
mind, however. If this old haunted house busi- 
ness could be disposed of, she reasoned, there 
was nothing to prevent her inviting Beth down 
to Wildacres for a visit. Of course, she could 
not ask her to come to a place subject to midnight 
disturbances. 


274 


PATSY CARROLL 


So to-day many loose ends had been straight- 
ened out, and the girls were busy, indeed, attend- 
ing to details. 

“We have lacked that one particular joy,” ex- 
plained Patsy, preparing to run off to the post- 
office to mail the invitation to Beth, “we needed 
company. No place like this is ever complete 
without guests, and now I have asked Beth and 
the nice little Miss Abbie. Won’t you love to have 
some someone intelligent to talk to. Aunt Mat- 
tie ?” she asked. Bee’s sunbonnet was on her head, 
Holly’s egg basket on her arm and Mab’s pocket- 
book in her hand. Otherwise Patsy hadn’t bor- 
rowed anything to speak of, and she was all ready 
for her dash to the country store where letters 
could be mailed. 

“Everything livens up in the middle of Aug- 
ust,” remarked Mab. “The boarding places must 
be overflowing, judging from all the strangers 
we see in town, and I suppose it will be like this 
until after Labor Day.” 

“After Labor Day,” repeated her sister, “then 
how things will die! Like falling in a big hole 
and pulling the hole in after you. I should hate 
to live around here when the summer folks leave.” 

Imbued with the housekeeping spirit which 
Mrs. Sherman and Holly were now overworking 


/M 0LT3 ^NEW ENGUAND 


^75 


in their efforts to fix up for the company. Bee 
organized a supplementary corps of workers to 
aid the cleaning up. 

“And especially the airing,” she whispered, lest 
Mrs. Sherman take offence at the implication. 
“You know, girls,” she explained, “this place is 
lovely but just a wee bit musty, and if Beth comes 
(we take it for granted she will) , we should have 
nothing but freshness and floral hints to greet 
her.” 

“Right- 0 1” agreed Patsy, back from her mis- 
sion with a basket full of small stuff and hands 
full of mail. “I’ll take the parlor ” 

“Oh, I just knew, Pat, you would want the 
most interesting room,” Nell pretended to com- 
plain. “Do you realize we haven’t half looked 
over all the queer ‘what-nots,’ old mottoes, and 
other things in that big parlor? Bee, this is your 
brigade, can’t we all join hands on the parlor?” 
begged Nell. 

“Oh, girls!” exclaimed Bee. “This will be a 
good chance to hunt that lost paper Mrs. Sher- 
man hopes to find — we haven’t done a thing about 
that, yet.” 

“I have — I have been searching through every- 
think I came across,” calmly announced Patsy. 
“I’m afraid there is no such paper to be found. 


576 


PATSY V'ARROLn 


at the same time let us keep on looking for 
it.” 

“Let me win the prize this time — if you see the 
paper sticking out give me the cue,” pleaded Nell 
prettily. 

“All right,” said Pat. “I’ll do that much for 
you.” 

“You organize the squads, Pat,” said Bee. 

“Fine idea,” assented the leader, “but see to it 
you don’t all sit down to look at the album. I 
realize what a fascination that big red plush al- 
bum is sure to be ; still, I must insist you all keep 
moving. We have a croquet set this afternoon, 
you know, and, Nellie, we hope to entertain your 
pleasant little girl friends right sociably. I smell 
Mrs. Sherman’s cookies Vay out here.’ ” 

“And I’ve tasted them, for Roily fetched 
around samples,” retorted Nellie. She was very 
sweet-looking in her new calico frock — each of 
the Wayfarers had invested in a “callicker,” or- 
dered by mail from Boston where the fad of re- 
vived prints had just taken hold. Nellie’s was 
lavender and white in the most old-fashioned 
floral design, so tiny a flower as to be a mere 
sprig, Mab’s was darker, a grayish ground with 
a pink leaf speckled on it, and Patsy had a real 
^‘Dolly Varden,” all flowers so closely crowded 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


277 


as to hide the background they must have been 
stamped upon. 

The calico fad was only one of the novelties 
the girls had taken so aptly to since their arrival 
at Wildacres, another, that probably should take 
precedence in this meagre report, being that of 
colored parasols. Such parasols! The Way- 
farers almost lost their identity under the shad- 
ows of these pretty sunshades, for the usual smart 
city or seashore effect was entirely submerged in 
the quaintness of the old town requirements. 

It was in gingham, however, that they dressed 
for the house cleaning tournament, and as it was 
Mabel’s turn to carry fresh berries over to Widow 
Deane, a protege of Roily’s, she was excused from 
the first round. 

The long French windows in the big room 
were not opened without an effort — that of Bee 
and Nell combined being required; but with real 
daylight then streaming in the ‘‘retired sanctu- 
ary,” our girls actually disobeyed rules and 
promptly fell to inspecting things about them. 

Nell’s attention became fixed on the “whatnot.” 
Here she found meaningless little shells, tiny 
bisque images, china candlesticks and even a pair 
of brass candle-snuffers. She inspected the lot 
with the eyes of youth full of sympathy for age, 


278 


PATSY CARROLL 


yet how juvenile the whole collection appeared! 

‘‘I am sure,” she commented, ‘‘these little 
things were gathered by some children — I mean 
the shells and china mugs of pebbles. Maybe 
they belonged to the children in that picture?” 

“Wouldn’t wonder a bit,” flung back Patsy 
with a dangerous flip of a rather long muslin 
duster. “But I say, Nell, keep moving, as the 
policemen say. You know all about those cookies 
and croquet.” 

Nell took the cue and flourished her own duster, 
but kept an eager eye on the slave-driver Patsy, 
until the latter ventured to stop in the course of 
her own work. 

“Now you are not moving,” charged Nell. 
“You have seen that pretty picture before, Pat,” 
she reminded the other. 

“But I didn’t have a chance, really, to notice 
how cute it was. Just look at those two dear chil- 
dren! They are not old-fashioned, see their 
dresses,” she prompted. 

“No, that isn’t an old picture,” agreed Bee. 
“It was just taken in an old-fashioned photog- 
rapher’s. Isn’t it cunning?” She, too, paused 
beside the spell-bound Patsy. 

“Such lovely eyes,” went on the latter, “and 
both brother and sister so much alike ” 



















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IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


'279 

“Pat Carroll!” called out Nell. “No fair stall- 
ing, now! You know they are my friends who 
are calling this afternoon.” 

“All right, dear. I’ll hurry along,” Patsy prom- 
ised. “But just let me dust this one picture very 
thoroughly. It’s the prettiest in the room, if it 
is in an old-fashioned gilt frame.” She took the 
cleanest end of her duster for the glass and rubbed 
the surface with a light, willing hand. Then 
she went all around the gold frame until not a 
speck of dust was left hidden in the big, gold 
leaves. 

“Let me have the other cloth for the back?” 
she asked Bee. “I am going to make a good job 
of this while I’m at it.” 

Bee tossed the darker cloth across the room into 
Patsy’s hands, and very carefully the worker 
swung the picture on its rusty wire. But she did 
not, at once, proceed with the dusting. Her eyes 
were, instead, fastened on a carefully written 
label that was pasted on the back of the portrait. 

“Girls!” she cried. “Come here, quick!” 

“What is it?” asked Bee, “and why the 
‘quick’?” 

“Just read — ^this! It says — ^will you believe 
me if I read it? Look!” she was really excited. 
“Just see for yourselves!” 


28 o 


PATSY CARROLL 


Bee and Nell were on either side of the dis- 
coverer now, and all three read in unison: 

“Torry, age five years; Beth, age three and 
one-half years. Christmas, 1906.” 

“Torry and Beth!” all three exclaimed again. 
Then they faced the front of the picture. 

“Sure as you live!” gasped Nell. “It’s themf* 
She could hardly have been expected to say 
“they.” 

“Just see their eyes! However did we miss 
recognizing their expression? See those dark 
eyes look at us !” demanded the excited Patsy. 

“That is surely a picture of our friends,” agreed 
Bee, who was scarcely less excited than Patsy, 
over the discovery. “But how have we done all 
this without once suspecting? This must he their 
old homestead, of course.” 

“It is very easy to understand that part,” ex- 
plained Patsy, “for I lost the card first thing. 
That probably had the name ‘Wildacres’ on it. 
You know I never had a chance to glance at it 
for it was handed me as we left the train. Then, 
since that time, all business has been taboo on 
account of Beth’s nervous condition. I am sure 
we could count the words we have ever spoken 
to Torry ” 

“Perhaps you can, dear,” interrupted Bee, “but 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


281 


I can’t say I have kept such precious account.” 

The playful thrust brought a new streak of 
color into Patsy’s cheeks, hut she was not to he 
diverted. 

‘‘Can you imagine it? Yes, suppose we are 
mistaken? This might be the home of some other 
relative ” 

“Not likely,” contradicted Bee. 

“Mrs. Sherman should know,” suggested 
Patsy. “Come along!” and she led the duster 
brigade on a flying squadron tour out into the 
cookie-scented kitchen. 


CHAPTER XXV 


THE DEEPENING MYSTERY 

•• A ND do you mean to tell me you know 
Brandons gasped Mrs. Sherman, wip- 
^ ing her hands on a gray roller-towel. 
“Of course, that’s Beth’s and Torry’s picture in 
the parlor.” 

“Oh, glorious!” shouted Patsy. “Where is 
Aunt Martha?” 

“Right here, child. But what is all the new 
excitement about?” asked the little auntie. 

They told her. She sat right down on the 
wash-basin bench, in her surprise. “Do you 
mean to tell me this is the real old homestead?” 
she exclaimed. 

“The real, only genuine, and original!” chirped 
Patsy. Nell and Bee were tasting goodies sur- 
reptitiously. Patsy was doing a Greek dance 
with her duster, until Aunt Martha interfered. 
“Isn’t it too extraordinary?” exclaimed Patsy. 

283 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


'283 


‘"And you have just invited them down, or up, 
which is it?” asked Aunt Martha. 

“We have just invited her up; that’s it,” an- 
swered Patsy. “You know. Auntie, we didn’t 
ask the boy.” 

“Oh, yes, I know. But wasn’t it simply re- 
markable that not a single clue was dropped by 
any of us or by them? And to think we got here 
after all!” 

^'Tou got us here,” her niece reminded her. 
“It was you who discovered Holly, you must re- 
member.” That youth was “hollering” at his 
enemy Jed that very moment, all because said 
Jed insisted on calling Miss Patsy, “Miss Sham- 
rock !” But Holly was apt to win out even with 
a big, green fence intervening. 

“Yes, I do recall that,” admitted Aunt 
Martha, referring to Patsy’s remark, “but I am 
still somewhat confused. How did you manage 
to take this place, Mrs. Sherman? You wanted 
the other homestead, I understood.” 

“Yes, that was Toptowers. I used to live 
there, and I wanted to get that for you, but it 
was gone when I wrote the agent. Of course, I 
knew I could get this — I explained it all to Miss 
Patsy,” she broke off in some confusion. 

“And it’s all just perfectly peachy,” declared 


284 


PATSY CARROLL 


Patsy. “Shall I wire Beth? No, of course not,” 
she answered herself. “They will know all about 
it when they get my letter, and we are sure they 
will come, now!” 

“They?” mimicked Bee, from the pantry. 

“Yes, theyf^ repeated Patsy boldly, “for I am 
sure if Torry is at the cottage he will come when 
he hears where we are. Of course, he can stop 
at the hotel,” she smiled at Aunt Martha. 

“Oh, mercy me!” sang out Nell. “Here come 
the girls to play croquet. Take this apron,” and 
she hit Patsy in the eye with a bundle of blue 
gingham. 

“Back to the parlor for us,” ordered Bee, hav- 
ing satisfied her afternoon sweet tooth. “We 
must invite the girls in if it rains, and methinks 
I hear thunder. I’ll dust the chairs, Pat, if you 
will rub off the piano. Sorry it’s so large. I 
think I would as soon attempt to dust an apart- 
ment house from the outside.” 

“But it can be done,” asserted Patsy, “if noth- 
ing else, in the way of picture-surprises, happens. 
Just look at those two innocents making eyes at 
us from their frame! Don’t you tingle all over 
when you anticipate of the glorious surprise they 
will have?” 

“And Pat, have you thought of the Drake 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


285 


girls? No wonder you were thinking or dream- 
ing of them, which was it?” asked her com- 
panion. 

“Both. And isn’t it too delicious to have con- 
quered them thusly? Not even to have known 
we were doing it !” and Patsy doubled up to enjoy 
a real laugh. “I hardly know what move to make 
next; there seems to be so much involved in our 
innocent discovery. And those two baby faces in 
that frame knew it all the time ! After all, how 
weak we mortals be! Ain’t it?” Patsy was hav- 
ing a good time with English as well as with her 
duster. 

It is not important to relate that the girls who 
called on Nell and Mab were actually forced to 
come inside out of a shower, except that the 
shower was the first of a series that ran clear 
through the night. The night storm has an im- 
portant bearing on the subsequent events, how- 
ever. 

It rained and it rained, and it blew and it blew! 
Bijah vainly tried to make doors and shutters 
fast, but they banged and slammed until Wild- 
acres, as a lodge, seemed threatened. So dread- 
ful was the storm that everyone gathered in the 
long dining-room, and gladly listened to Bijah’s 
stories intending to banish their terror; but, every 


286 


PATSY CARROLL 


time he was interrupted by a shutter, or some 
“rude” noise, Nell and Mab gave in to another 
quake of fear. Although to-night Nell seemed 
more nervous. 

The old clock was striking eleven when the wind 
finally died down, as it so often does around mid- 
night. Just whether storms can tell time or not 
is uncertain, but they do seem to make rather 
good guesses, and this nor’easter was not less 
intelligent than others of his kind. 

“Stoppin’,” said Bijah. 

“It surely is,” agreed Mrs. Sherman. Roily 
was sound asleep on the hair-cloth sofa, with his 
face in the buttons and his feet on the walnut 
roses. He breathed with a slight gulp on the 
intake, and Patsy remarked it was something 
about Jed that caused the break in his nocturne. 
Roily didn’t really snore, but he slept soundly 
and didn’t care who knew it. 

Things had quieted down, and Aunt Martha 
wisely suggested bed, which plan was promptly 
agreed to, for all hands had experienced rather 
an exciting day. 

“I can hardly wait, now,” yawned Mab, the 
first to fully recover from the storm’s influence. 
Perhaps the big dose of fear served to throw it- 
self oflp. Certainly she was now quite ready to 


m OLD NEW ENGLAND 


287 


talk about the great discovery of the originals of 
ihe picture, all over again. 

But the others objected. 

^‘It is time for sleepy heads to hug pillows,” 
insisted Patsy. ‘‘Why, Mrs. Sherman,” she in- 
terrupted, “you need not have come up to see 
about the windows here,” as the housekeeper 
glided down the hall. “We would have attended 
to them.” 

“I just wanted to ” she paused, until she 

reached Patsy’s side. “I wanted to peek in and 
see if everything is all right in the wing,” she 
whispered. 

Oh,* yes,” assented Patsy, ‘'but I’m sure every- 
thing is. Things are — ^very quiet — and every- 
thing,” she finished significantly. 

In the sleeping rooms there was a general rais- 
ing of windows, and a general chorus of delight 
at the sight of the wonderful sky after the great, 
noisy storm. 

“Just see the moon!” begged Nell. 

“And see the stars!” called back Bee. 

“And smell the roses !” insisted Patsy. 

“It will be a perfect night for sleep,” prompted 
Aunt Martha, with the tinge of maturity dis- 
counting youth. 

They had been asleep, all of them, when some- 


288 


PATSY CARROLL 


thing banged! Even in their drowsy state each 
seemed immediately to know that the noise came 
from the wing! 

Patsy never spoke until she jumped up anl 
switched on the lights. 

‘‘Now, I’m going to get that, whatever it is I” 
she declared. “Coming, Bee?” 

“Certainly!” answered the girl who was also 
hurrying into robe and slippers. 

“Don’t let the others prevent us now,” warned 
Patsy. She had her flashlight in hand, and antici- 
pated the step that was at her door. It was Mrs. 
Sherman’s. 

“You really can’t go in there,” begged the 
startled woman. Her face was white with real 
fright, and she threw entreaty into her voice. 
The others of the household were raising various 
rows, but Bee and Patsy had determined not to 
listen to any objections. 

“Why shouldn’t we go, Mrs. Sherman?” asked 
Patsy, pushing her way through the hall. The 
banging continued at intervals. 

“I shut all those windows tight,” declared the 
trembling woman, “and I am sure you will be 
shocked — ^by something!” 

“We are shocked now,” retorted Patsy, “and 
whatever that is we have simply got to run it 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


'289 


down! You know very well it can’t be anything 
supernatural!” Her words were brave and 
sounded heroic, but Patsy was quaking, never- 
theless. 

Bee allowed Patsy to lead, and Mrs. Sherman 
followed closely. Entreaties from the others fell 
upon deaf ears, for the two leaders were deter- 
mined to trace the noise. 

“Here’s the key,” said Mrs. Sherman. “But 
I had best open the door,” she offered as they 
reached it. 

“Nothing of the sort,” objected Patsy, fasci- 
nated now by the terror of it all. “Please let me 
have the key.” 

She turned it once, but the lock did not spring 
back. Bee could be heard to breath, they had 
suddenly fallen into such an ominous silence. 

The next moment the lock did turn, and the 
door swung open. 

“Oh!” cried Bee, as a great gust of wind swept 
her face. 

“It’s nothing but an open window — ^two of 
them,” announced Patsy, her flashlight searching 
out the source of the sudden draft. 

“I — shut — them tight, an hour ago!” declared 
Mrs. Sherman, her eyes on the open black- 
ness. 


PATSY CARROLL 


290! 

Patsy reached the light button and flooded the 
room with a welcome glow. Then they stood 
waiting. 

“Booh!” exclaimed Patsy. “Who’s here!” and 
she tramped in boldly, her voice echoing through 
the long, empty chamber. 

The others followed her cautiously. Bee imi- 
tated the tramping, giving a little tap-tap-tap, 
to vouch for her courage. Mrs. Sherman was at 
a window. 

“I’ll shut them again,” she offered very de- 
liberately. 

“Have they no locks?” questioned Patsy. 

“No, there are never locks on the second floor 
of country windows,” explained the woman. 
“Not that a lock would matter in this case ” 

“Shut ’em tight,” insisted Patsy, giving one a 
push with her own hand. It flew up rather 
viciously, and she stepped back with a sudden 
jerk. 

“Wants to bite, doesn’t it?” she kept up the 
defiance. But it must be admitted even Patsy 
was glad when the closet had been searched, and 
the faded portieres well shaken without serious 
results. 

“Come along, now do, please, young ladies,” 
begged Mrs. Sherman. “One would hardly think 


'IN: OLD NEm ENGLAND 291 

the draft could be so strong as it was when we 
came up to the windows,” 

“But it couldn’t possibly open them,” insisted 
Patsy. 

“Oh, no, dear, it couldn’t do that. What opens 

those windows ” and her murmur was lost in 

subdued exclamation and little meaningless gulps. 

They left the room and locked the door, more 
mystified than ever. 

“Just now, too,” complained Bee, “when we 
had everything arranged for Beth.” 

“Perhaps it won’t happen again for weeks,” 
said Mrs. Sherman. “There just seems to be 
streaks of it.” 

“The only thing to do now,” suggested Patsy, 
“is to forget it. Try to laugh it off. Girls,” to 
Mab’s and Nell’s heads just sticking out of their 
doors, “it’s all right; nothing but windows.” 

“Windows!” repeated Nell. “There isn’t any 
wind?” 

“Go to yours and try it,” suggested Bee; and 
the experiment confirmed the insinuation, for as 
Mab did step to her own casement the light drap- 
eries blew out in her blinking eyes. 

“It is getting windy again,” she admitted, and 
once more, after a general exchange of opinions, 
they all settled down to sleep. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


WHEN THE COMPANY CAME 

WO days of perplexity followed the sec- 



ond nocturnal outbreak in the wing 


room. The girls checked up everything 
about the place that might be used as a ladder 
or lift, to reach the windows in the round room; 
they even suspected the one old faithful horse- 
chestnut tree, that barely ventured to brush the 
window panes with its youngest and softest 
branches, but the clue to the way the windows 
were reached, and opened, was not discovered in 
any of the various lines investigated. 

Mystified, but sure there was a clue, the Way- 
farers continued with their plans to receive the 
company, for, quickly as their letter reached the 
Cape Cod cottage, bringing the surprising infor- 
mation of their habitation in Wildacres, a night 
letter, or long telegram, was sent by Torry and 
Beth j ointly. They promised to come out quickly 


IN, OLD NEW ENGLAND 


^293 


as such arrangements could be made. The Bran- 
dons’ delight at the big surprise was unmistak- 
able, for line after line of the telegram fairly 
shouted their joy in terms of strongest enthusi- 
asm. 

On this morning an early caller was announced. 
He politely asked to see ‘‘the tenant in charge,” 
and at the outset stated he was from the real 
estate office. 

“Something like,” declared Patsy. “He 
doesn’t break in upon us as did the ugly old clock- 
winder,” and at Aunt Martha’s request the niece 
accompanied her to the sitting room, there to 
interview the caller. 

“Sorry to disturb you so early,” began the 
man, springing up from his chair, “but this mat- 
ter is rather urgent. You see, we have hade great 
difficulty with tenants on this place,” he went 
on frankly, while Patsy and her aunt seated them- 
selves. “People wouldn’t stay,” he smiled 
broadly, “and consequently we never could get 
a good word from a tenant to encourage a buyer. 
And we have got to sell.” He used a lot of em- 
phasis on the word “got” and rubbed his hands 
to further strengthen the argument. He was a 
pleasant-faced man, neither young nor old, 
neither fat nor thin, and Patsy thought his name 


294 


PATSY CARROLL 


might be “Mr. Moderation.” He introduced 
himself, howver, as Mr. Madden. 

“We like the place very much,” said Aunt 
Martha, in reply to his qualified question, “but 
I can well understand why people run away from 
it. It is disturbing in some ways, and there are 
noises.” 

“Windows,” Patsy hurriedly added. “They 
seem to be opened and closed in some mysterious 
way, but that’s all the harm they do.” She 
laughed lightly and continued. “Of course, we 
know it is not done by ghosts ; we have suspected 
a boy who seems to enjoy tantalizing the little 
fellow we have here with us, but none of our sus- 
picions leads to a solution of the mystery. At the 
same time we are interested in the Brandon 
heirs ” 

“Do you know the Brandons? Is that why 
you came here?” asked the agent. 

“Yes, we know them, but that isn’t why we 
came out here,” replied Patsy, who always helped 
her aunt by assuming a good part of conversa- 
tional responsibility. “By a very strange coin- 
cidence we came out here not knowing this was 
their grandfather’s place.” 

“Oh, I see,” and the man’s face brightened. 
“Then you could not be charged with undlie in- 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


295 


fluence, so to speak. You see we have one line 
of heirs opposed to selling. They pretend to 
think the place will become more valuable, where- 
as everyone knows real estate is at its crest, and 
due for a drop. We always want to sell,” he 
apologized, “that’s easy to understand, of course.” 

“And reasonable,” responded Aunt Martha. 

“My problem is this,” continued the business 
man, “I have a party very much interested in this 
place; he is settling his factory here in Massa- 
chusetts, has that all arranged, and his family 
wants an old-fashioned homestead. The price 
does not bother them at all, and this description 
suits. Now, his representative. Judge Davis of 
Boston ” 

“Judge Davis of Boston!” exclaimed Patsy. 

“Yes; happen to know him?” 

“We have met him this summer, and he is an 
old friend of dad’s,” explained the newly-sur- 
prised girl. “It does seem to me. Aunt Martha, 
our discoveries are making up for any lost time 
in the early season.” 

“Doesn’t it?” Aunt Martha was a true Way- 
farer and keen for the joy of surprises. 

“Then, if I bring Judge Davis out here to look 
over this place,” went on Mr. Madden, “will you 
say a good word for it?” 


296 


PATSY CARROLL 


“We would sell this dear, old place to the most 
critical buyer you can present,” declared Patsy. 
“That noise in the wing room is sure to be duly 
accounted for, and in the meantime it doesn’t 
hurt anyone.” 

“Spoken like a man!” said Mr. Madden, rub- 
bing his capable hands in glee. “We can sell the 
place if you talk like that to any customer. This 
noise business is all tommy-rot! I’ll wire Judge 
Davis at once. As usual, the mill magnate has 
to settle things immediately.” 

“A man called here when we first came,”ysaid 
Aunt Martha. “He said he was a principal heir, 
who might he be?” 

“Thad Drake, likely. Sort of gruff and rather 
— ^loud-spoken? Coin’ around inspectin’, may- 
be?” suggested the agent. 

“Yes. Took to winding our clocks, for in- 
stance,” explained Patsy. “And he is the father 
of those Drake girls?” 

“Ex-actly!” said the man, very emphatically. 
“They’re the objectors, obstacles, you might say. 
Thank goodness Bell and Millie are busy workin’ 
out Boston way. Their mother is harmless 
enough, but those two girls !” He strangled some 
very strong emotion and it was not “love” for 
the Drake girls. “Then, I’ll run along,” he 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


^297 


concluded, ‘‘and don’t be surprised if Judge 
Davis and his client run out on the afternoon 
train.” 

Mr. Madden left the grounds in his smart 
little runabout, and Patsy with Aunt Martha 
hurried along to finish such details as, fresh flow- 
ers in the rooms, straightening of flying window 
draperies, etc.; while N^ell and Roily quarreled 
about the stray leaves that dodged their brooms 
in the porch-sweeping tournament. 

If, perchance, any spook or spooklet was hid- 
den on the premises, or thereabouts, it must be a 
daring Thing indeed, for a happier set of home- 
makers could not be found in many miles, than 
those who so enthusiastically made ready for the 
coming of Beth and Torry, the babes in the par- 
lor picture. 

“Wouldn’t it be jolly if they all came in on 
the same train?” suggested Mab. She had just 
finished watering the pink geraniums in the long 
box in the front porch. 

“They will, likely,” replied Bee. “There is 
only one afternoon train from Boston, you 
know.” 

But one half-hour leeway remained between 
the changing of hammock cushions, and the com- 
ing of the three-thirty train, and in that time each 


29^ 


TATSY CARROLL 


girl flew off to dress, so as to be ready on the 
porch when the arrivals should arrive. 

Girls can do that — dress in a half hour when 
they really wish to, and the Wayfarers answered 
the train’s shrieking whistle by reporting 
promptly on the big porch before the taxi 
driver honked his own particular, company 
warning. 

“Here they come!” exclaimed Nell needlessly, 
for they were there! 

“And Beth is walking in!” said Aunt Martha. 

“Who’s the other woman with Miss Abbie?” 
asked Mab. The arrivals were coming up the 
path and the Wayfarers were running down. 

“That’s the nurse, you know, Sis,” replied Nell. 
Torry was leading up in the rear with bags bang- 
ing on each arm like quotation marks, and Zippy 
was trying to pull him over with an effort to 
break free from his own leash. Torry dropped 
a bag and unsnapped the catch that loosed the 
frisky little animal. 

Followed such greeting and exclamations! 

There was so much to say at once ! How lovely 
to see Beth walking! How delightful for Beth 
to see the girls actually at her beloved Wild- 
acres! 

“Almost miraculous!” breathed the delighted 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


299 


Aunt Abbie who was actually kissing Aunt 
Martha. 

“Leave it to the girls,” declaimed Torry in his 
most courteous greeting. The compliment was 
accepted with a round of bows, done in different 
period effects. Patsy jerked a real curts’y while 
Nell almost genuflected. 

Selma, the nurse, was promptly taken in charge 
by Mrs. Sherman, and Bijah forgot all difference 
in caste by almost weeping with joy over Beth 
and Torry. 

“Never thought you’d come home again,” he 
kept murmuring. “This is a rare, happy day 
for old Bijah.” 

“And for us, also,” returned Torry. “I have 
been expecting and planning to get out here all 
summer, but Sis has been very ill, you know.” 
He added the last clause in a subdued voice. 

“I know; I’ve heard,” repeated Bijah. He 
claimed Torry’s attention as man to man, nat- 
urally. 

There was a sudden rush from the side porch. 
It brought with it Roily and Zippy beautifully 
inixed. 

“I’ve got a dog! I’ve got a dog!” exclaimed 
Roily, unmindful of company and all. “And I’m 
going to keep him, Bijah!” he declared. “You 


300 


PATSY CARROLL 


can’t make me chase this one, fer he come right 
up to me and — ^kissed me!” 

Everyone laughed. Roily was so serious in 
his defiance of Bijah’s relentless rule, and he had 
no way of knowing that Zippy actually belonged 
to the family. How wonderful that every detail 
was working out satisfactory. 

Roily, at last, had found his dog! 

“You may keep him, son,” agreed the smiling 
old gardener. “Me and Zippy is right good 
friends, ain’t we. Zip?” and he patted the dog 
fondly. It was unimportant that part of Zip’s 
joy at the home coming should be strengthened 
by the freedom following his train captivity. 

Roily looked on, fascinated. A real dog to 
live with him at Wildacres ! Now he would show 
Jed! 

“Zippy was brought up here,” explained Beth. 
“Grandfather taught him all sorts of tricks.” 
Her dark eyes softened at the memory. 

They were seated on the porch, and Mrs. Sher- 
man now brought the coolest of lemonades. Torry 
and Beth recognized her as the neighbor from 
Toptowers, and her presence added to the de- 
lightful reunion. 

“But I am only visiting,” remarked Mrs. 
Sheriaan aside to Beth. “You see we were dis- 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


301 


appointed. Mr. Toppin forgot us, after all.” 

“Didn’t he leave you the little garden house 
you always expected?” asked Beth, surprised. 

“No,” said Mrs. Sherman, but she followed 
quickly with: “Take your lemonade, dear, while 
it’s cool. We don’t need ice, you know. We still 
have the lovely cool spring. Yoiur own tin cup 
hangs in the spring-house yet.” 

“As soon as everyone is rested we will move 
inside,” proposed Patsy. “Isn’t it lovely to play 
hostess to you in your own house?” she said aside 
to Beth. 

“Here comes someone else!” exclaimed the 
overjoyed Holly, who, next to dogs, liked com- 
pany best. 

A runabout was gliding up the driveway, and 
its occupants proved to be Mr. Madden, real 
estate agent, and Judge Davis of Boston. 


CHAPTER XXVI 


AN ELECTRIFIED GHOST 

NOTHER flurry of excitement attended 



the new arrivals. Judge Davis was over- 


^ joyed to renew his acquaintance with the 
Wayfarers, delighted to know Beth and Torry, 
and eager to secure an option on Wildacres for 
his business friend, the mill magnate, Milton 
Morgan. 

It took but a few minutes to exchange all 
these details for suitable replies, and not the least 
interested was Roily, with his precious friend 
Zippy. 

If a straw may tell of a tornado’s approach, 
then a mere feather may tell of an equally im- 
portant catastrophe, for it was a feather, one from 
Roily’s own duck Goldie, that blew down the 
hall and precipitated the disaster significant. 

‘T told you to stay outside. Roily,” remon- 


302 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


3Q3 

strated the boy’s mother. ‘‘And now, just 
see 

But Zippy was after the feather, and the 
^feather flew up, and up, until it went to the very 
top of the stairs. The dog dashed after it by 
way of the steps, although the tiny gray speck 
of down blew straight up, on top of a current 
of air rushing in from the front door. 

Roily followed the dog, and Patsy, fearing the 
frisky Zip might break things, followed both. 

“It’s under the clock,” Roily explained, for 
Zippy was tearing wildly around the old square, 
box-framed time piece. 

With a victorious yelp Zip seized something, 
and as he did there was a bang! Then another, 
and another! 

The sound was repeated some place else, not 
in the clock but — in the wing room! 

“Come quickly!” yelled Patsy frantically. 
“There’s the ghost! It’s in the clock and works 
in the wing room !” 

She flew to the door of the dreaded room, and 
had it wide open before all of the surprised audi- 
ence could reach the second hall. Bee was first 
to suspect the real secret. 

“Pull that wire again!” called Patsy. 

Obeying, Bee tugged at the tiny wire Zip had 


304 


PATSY CARROLL 


first yanked loose, and — ^Whang ! Bang ! Thud I 
fell the windows in the wing room! 

‘T have it! I have it!” shouted Patsy, running 
back to the clock. “The wires are somehow con- 
nected in the window cords and they operate with 
the clock’s action.” 

“Our ghost!” moaned Nell. 

“Our spook!” sighed Mab. 

It took but a few moments to make complete 
investigation of the ingenious device, and just as 
Patsy had always claimed, though she refrained 
from using the banality, the affair was all per- 
fectly simple, and absolutely human. 

It consisted of a set of adjusted counterbal- 
anced weights lifted and dropped by levers actu- 
ated by clock power. These in turn were first 
touch off by a current made by strong wind blow- 
ing over a paddle-shaped lever, which was hidden 
behind a cornice outside the window! 

“Don’t you remember, Torry,” called up Beth, 
who was content to rem^ain on the first step of the 
stairs in the lower hall. “Gran’dad wrote us he 
was working on a device to open and close his 
windows without leaving his bed?” 

“I remember it perfectly,” assented her 
brother. He was fascinated, however, by the 
perfection of the simple arrangement. “Gran*- 


IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 


305 


dad was as pleased as a child when he had elec- 
tricity installed here,” he continued, “and he 
wrote us about all sorts of plans he had for 
utilizing it. Who would ever think one of 
these would have worked its perfection disas- 
trously?” 

“But it has not,” put in Judge Davis. “If you 
had sold this place earlier, you could not possibly 
have received such a price for it as Mr. Morgan 
offers.” 

“Perhaps,” agreed Torry. “Then everything 
appears to be working out right.” 

“Pull out the clock a little, please,” Patsy re- 
quested. “I see something sticking out, and it 
may be the rules and regulations.” 

“A good guess,” remarked Torry, who had 
shoved out the big time-piece. “Here it all is, 
written out as carefully as only gran’dad could 
write it,” and he with Patsy faced the “Regula- 
tions for my self-opening windows.” 

They paused to read, but Patsy broke out pres- 
ently with another cry of surprise. 

“Look!” she commanded. “Look at this sur- 
veyor’s map! See that line running out to the 
notes on the margin!” 

“What can this mean?” asked the young man. 

“It is only fastened by a tack. Here, let’s 


3o6 


PATSY CARROLL 


take it downstairs, I spy another secret there,’’ 
she intimated. 

The map was flattened out on a table, and all 
who could crowd around did so, in keen antici- 
pation. 

“Doesn’t that say that strip is to belong to 
Mr. and Mrs. Roland Sherman?” asked Patsy 
sharply. 

It does,” said Judge Davis, one of the most 
interested of the group. 

“And see, this is a map of Toptowers,” went 
on Patsy, “and here it is, all signed. There’s 
Bijah’s name. Bijah!” she called. “Come in 
here and tell us about this !” 

He came — did Bijah. 

“Oh, that old map,” he explained. “Yes, sure, 
I signed that and stuck it up there. Used to he 
in the desk, but I thought it went with the clock, 
so I tacked it there. Me and the feed man, Tom 
Snowden, put our names to it. Y’u see, Mr. 
Toppin and Mr. Larkiii was always tinkerin’ at 
sum’thin’, and I allers signed whatever they 
asked. Yes, I signed that,” he finished, as Patsy 
sank down, triumphant. 

“Then it’s all right; is it. Judge?” she asked. 
“We don’t want to give Mrs. Sherman any false 
alarms.” 


IN OLD NEW^ ENGLAND 


307 


‘'That’s as good as any will ever offered for 
probate, for it has two signatures and is most 
carefully worded,” replied the judge, who was 
critically inspecting the queer document. 

They told Mrs. Sherman! Woman-like she 
eagerly accepted the good news without question, 
for, somehow in her heart, she had continued to 
entertain a hope that the coveted and promised 
property would eventually come to her and her 
little son. 

“If only my poor husband knew — she mur- 
mured, brushing away a few pardonable tears. 
“Roily, come here, dear. You don’t seem to 
understand.” 

“He got it,” replied the boy. “Zippy got 
Goldie’s feather!” 

Judge Davis patted the small Head that could 
see life only through the eyes of happy boyhood. 

By this time Torry Had made a more complete 
investigation of tHe mysterious clock works, and 
Patsy and Bee were running down tHe details. 

“You see,” said the young man, “the windows 
would only close with a west wind ” 

“And only when the clock was well wound,” 
interrupted Patsy, “which accounts for the 
ghost’s relapses until Mr. Drake wound the clock. 
He must have known everything! Isn’t it too — ^ 


3o8 


PATSY CARROLL 


everything she blurted out inadequately. The 
call of Mr. Drake was subsequently explained to 
everyone. 

“A little bit of all right,” agreed Torry, smil- 
ing. ‘Tt does seem as though our surprises 
crowded themselves a trifle,” 

“They always do when they get going,” de- 
clared Patsy. “There’s only one joy left. Dad 
isn’t here; but he is coming to-morrow.” 

Downstairs, Aunt Martha made the same state- 
ment to Judge Davis, old college friend of 
Patsy’s beloved dad, and the proposed big fishing 
trip was then finally assured. 

“And we will have one great, grand, glorious 
celebration to-morrow, when dad comes!” glee- 
fully announced Patsy. But Roily and Zippy 
spoiled the dramatic effect, for they were off again 
on a tangent after a purposely blown feather from 
the wing of pampered Goldie. 

“Dear Old New England ” began Bee. 

“Is absolutely all right,” interrupted Patsy. 
There was a significant, respectful pause. And 
no one there opposed the statement. 


THE END 


THE PATSY CARROLL SERIES 


By grace GORDON 

12fno» Illustrated. Beautiful cloth binding, stamped in gold with 
cover inlay and jacket in colors 

^Pricc per volume, $t,S0 net 


This fascinating series is permeated with 
the vibrant atmosphere of the great out- 
doors, The vacations spent by Patsy Car- 
roll and her chums, the girl Wayfarers, in 
the north, east, south and west of the won- 
derland of our country, comprise a succes- 
sion of tales unsurpassed in plot and action. 


PATSY CARROLL AT WILDERNESS LODGE 

Patsy Carroll succeeds in coaxing her father to lease one of the 
luxurious camps at Lake Placid, for the summer. Established at 
Wilderness Lodge, the Wayfarers, as they call themselves, find they 
are the center of a mystery which revolves about a missing will. 
How the girls solve the mystery makes a splendid story. 

PATSY CARROLL UNDER |SOUTHERN SKIES 

Patsy Carroll and her three churns^ spend their Easter vacation 
in an old mansion in Florida. An exciting mystery develops. It is 
solved by a curious acrostic found by Patsy. This leads to very 
exciting and satisfactory results, maHng a capital story. 

PATSY CARROLL IN THE GOLDEN WEST 

The Wayfarers journey to the dream city of the Movie World 
in the Golden West, and there’ become a oart of a famous film 
drama. 



PATSY CARROLL IN OLD NEW ENGLAND 

Set in the background of the Tercentenary of the landing of the 
Pilgrims, celebrated in the year 1920, the story of Patsy Carroll in 
Old New England offers a correct word picture of this historical 
event and into it is woven a fascinating tale of the adventures of 
the Wayfarers. 

Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue 


CUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers 


New York 


THE JANE ALLEN COLLEGE 
SERIES 


By EDITH BANCROFT 

12mo. Illustrated. Beautiful cloth binding^ stamped in gold with 
cover inlay and jacket in colors 

Price per volume, $1.50 net 


This series is a decided departure from 
the stories usually written of life in the 
modern college for young women. They 
contain a deep and fascinating theme, which 
has to do with the inner struggle for growth. 
An authoritative account of the life of the 
college girl as it is lived today. 






laneAUen 

^ ofthe 

Sub Team 


.Edith hanax^t 


JANE ALLEN OF THE SUB TEAM 

When Jane Allen left her beautiful Western home in Montana, 
sorely against her will, to go East, there to become a freshman 
at Wellington College, she was sure that she could never learn to 
endure the restrictions of college life. But she did. 

JANE ALLEN: RIGHT GUARD 

Jane Allen becomes a sophomore at Wellington College, but 
she has to face a severe trial that requires all her courage and char- 
acter. The result is a triumph for being faithful to an ideal. 

JANE ALLEN: CENTER 

Lovable Jane Allen as Junior experiences delightful days of work 
and play. Jane, and her chum, Judith, win leadership in class 
office, social and athletic circles of Sophs and Juniors. 

JANE ALLEN: JUNIOR 

Jane Allen’s college experiences, as continued in ^-Jane Allen, 
Junior,” afford the chance for a brilliant story. There is a rude, 
country girl, who forced her way into Wellin^on under false pre- 
tenses. An exchange of identity gives the plot unusual originality. 

Send For Our Free Illustrated Catalogue 


ICUPPLES & LEON COMPANY, Publishers 


New York 




















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